


just a little rush, babe

by FallenBridesmaid



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Body Image, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Married Couple, Psychological Trauma, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenBridesmaid/pseuds/FallenBridesmaid
Summary: “Shane, baby? Can you tell me if- if you’re okay?” Ryan asked, breath hitching as he tried to quash down the panic gathering right in his chest. The unspokenCan you tell me what you’ve done to yourself?crackled like electric between them, a tangible thing traveling down the phone line until Ryan was sure Shane had heard it anyway.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 54
Kudos: 159





	1. only blue or black days

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Hozier’s “Sedated”

_I’m gay and kinda in love with the way my hipbones are starting to jut out_

That’s the text that lights up Ryan’s phone screen at 3 am, sending the dim light to brighten up all corners of his bedroom. He was almost asleep too, but it seems like Shane was having a crisis so sleep is going to have to wait. Not exactly a crisis, but, definitely something.

Ryan’s worried, of course he is, he’s known Shane for almost as long as Shane’s hated himself, so he knows what this is a precursor to. But he’s seen Shane eating for the past few weeks, always makes sure he’s eating actual calorie filled food by taking him out for meals or eating with him at work, and maybe it won’t turn out like he’s expecting this time. He’d noticed Shane slimming out a little bit, but not so rapidly as to rouse his concerns. But this comment, this blatant reference to Shane’s weight loss showing on his body, that was worrying him. If Shane was actually complimenting something about himself? Ryan Knew It was a comment on his “progress” not an improvement in his general self esteem.

_Shane, ur hipbones have Always jutted out_

Ryan texts back and hopes he won’t regret it. You never know if comments like that will be met with denial, disbelief, or anger. Eating disorders were hard to predict like that, especially when it wasn’t you suffering from it. Shane himself had never called it an eating disorder, referring to it only as food issues, but they both knew it was very similar to anorexia. Shane was very adamant about not seeking a therapist or telling any medical professionals about this issue, so he’d never received a formal diagnosis. Ryan Knew he would mention to doctors during check ups that he was “dieting” and had even blatantly refused certain medications on the fear of supposed weight gain as a side effect, and Ryan couldn’t believe that one hadn’t raised anyone’s alarm bells. So was the American healthcare system though, he supposed.

Professionally, nobody was acknowledging Shane had a problem and Shane would, but only sometimes. He would have bouts of “recovery” periods where he just wouldn’t Care enough to keep that close of an eye on his calories and such, if only because the starvation he was doing wasn’t yielding any results, and then he would gain weight and freak out before going back to his old habits, sometimes even worse than before. Generally, Ryan liked Shane’s recovery periods best because his husband wasn’t actively harming himself during them.

Ryan had thought Shane had been in a recovery period for the last several months, as evidenced by the meals they ate everyday together (and by the general healthiness that seemed to radiate from Shane lately) but if he was losing weight, he evidentially wasn’t eating as much as Ryan had thought he was. One of the unforeseen habits picked up over the course of being so close to Shane had been that Ryan too began counting calories, though for the opposite reason. Ryan was more of a cook than Shane and as such, took it upon himself to make a lot of their meals if they were eating in. It helped to ease Shane’s mind that way, he’d often work himself up worrying over the calories at the restaurant even if he’d picked the least calorific option on the menu, worried about how they could’ve sneaked in some extra calories without telling anyone because nobody was watching it be prepared. Ryan has always found that to be one of Shane’s more irrational ED thoughts, but considering that’s what He was doing when he cooked their meals to ensure that Shane was eating enough it began to seem more rational. Ryan didn’t add anything substantial enough in this venture, he’d just cook with full fat oil or use the least lean cut of meat or something, but he was trying to help Shane in small ways. Shane had passed out from hunger a few too many times for him to feel comfortable letting him Starve himself to that point right in front of him again.

But the last two months had been different, he and Shane hadn’t been physically together much due to the quarantine in place. They still are together, though it was over video call so they each had to make their own foods, but Ryan was pretty sure he’d been eating just the same.  
He doubted Shane was eating much outside of the two meals they had together, but he couldn’t expect too much from him. It had been a big struggle for Shane to be able to get back to the point of being able to eat twice a day again, Ryan wasn’t going to risk that progress by trying to get him to up that before he was ready.

So yeah, Shane’s impromptu 3 am Love declaration of his body reasonably worried Ryan but he knew by now that jumping to conclusions was not the right way to go about situations like this. So, he simply waited for his husband’s next text. To Ryan’s surprise, Shane wanted to FaceTime in lieu of simply continuing this train of thought via text. Ryan switched over and turned the light on beside the bed before hitting the green “accept” button, not entirely surprised to see that Shane evidently hadn’t gone to bed yet if his day clothes were any indication.

“Hey, babe,” Ryan greeted, taking in the almost manic gleam in his husband’s eyes, the brightness intensified by the light from the phone screen reflecting off them.

“Hey, Ry! How’s Montana?”

Ryan blinked. Okay, so Shane’s Not going to talk about the text he sent a minute prior, apparently. He tried not to let the concern tugging in his chest show on his face.

“Same as it was when you asked this morning, still boring as hell,” Ryan eventually settled upon, trying really hard for casualty in his tone. Shane doesn’t seem to notice if it does or doesn’t come across that way, however he does seem to deflate a bit at the answer.

“Right, yeah of course it is. You’re stuck in the Airbnb without anything to do,” Shane states, the gleam going out of his eye as his voice dropped. Ryan watched as his eyes flicked off to the side, squinting as if trying to read something far off before he spoke again. “Ry? Why are you still awake? Isn’t it 3 there?” He asks and Ryan tries not to sigh in response.

“Shane, it’s 2 there. Why are you still awake? You’re not even in your pjs yet.” He pointed out and Shane glanced briefly down at his outfit as if he hadn’t noticed until now that he was still wearing jeans.

“In my defense, I’ve been laying down at least” Shane doesn’t actually answer the question, Ryan notices.

“What’s keeping you up, babe? You in your head tonight?” Ryan tries, hoping the prompting will get his man to actually start talking to him. Shane doesn’t really like calling him, especially late at night when he knows he might be waking him up, so there’s gotta be a reason he did it. Between the text and the strange behaviors on the call, Ryan has an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can’t really describe other than Bad.

“No, uh, I just missed you, I guess. It’s weird not having you around all the time. The apartment is really empty without you, you know?” Ryan flinches at the rawness Shane’s trying to disguise in his voice. Shane’s been alone in their apartment for two months now, since the lockdowns started, and Ryan hated to think of the effect that was having on him. They were used to being together quite literally 24/7, both living and working together, so it was a big shock to both of their systems to be apart so long. Ryan had been on a shoot when everything started, so he at least had the crew with him right now to interact with every day. Shane had nobody.

“I miss you too, baby. I’m sorry I’m stuck out here, I’d give anything to be home with you...” Ryan matches Shane’s tone, adding, “Especially right now when everything’s so uncertain.”

Shane doesn’t seem to be listening, instead staring slightly off to the side and down, and Ryan waits. Sometimes he gets like this, in his own head, but he would be out again soon.

He wants to say, _I’m sorry._

He wants to say, _I’ve been lying to you._

He wants to say, _I’ve been disappointing you._

He wants to say, _I’m destroying myself one day at a time._

He wants to say, _I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop._

He wants to say, _I don’t know if I’ll still be here by the time you get back._

He doesn’t mean to say any of it out loud.

Shane jerks his head up as the display on his phone abruptly shifts. Now the screen shows only the bland ceiling of the airbnb Ryan’s trapped in for the time being, Ryan no longer even in frame. Eyes wide, Shane fervently hopes maybe Ryan had simply fallen asleep and the phone fell over because of that, too terrified to contemplate that he’d accidentally said the things he was thinking out loud. Too afraid of what Ryan would say if he’d heard any of it.

“Ry?” Shane ventures, voice soft, after a few minutes of nothing changing on the call. He’d heard faint shuffling around in the background, but otherwise nothing else to indicate Ryan was still actively around. Shane was starting to debate on just hanging up, but it made him feel less lonely just to know the call was active so he knew he’d let it go on all night even if Ryan had fallen asleep. Nobody answered him.

Shane kept his phone propped up so he was within the camera’s eyesight even as he turned his attention back to the laptop in front of him. He was going through the forums he’d frequented on and off for five years, reading through dozens of threads of girls reporting which methods for weight loss were bullshit and which seemed to only work for certain people. Tonight, he was using google to help him find specific threads on one method in particular, clicking back and forth from the site and the search engine, instead of just mindlessly reading whatever caught his eye.

He wasn’t losing weight fast enough, he needed something with quicker results, and he’d seen something that was guaranteeing at least a five pound loss a week for most of the people he’d read about trying it. He wanted to make sure he knew exactly what he was supposed to do to utilize it and, most importantly, that it would work for someone who weighed as much as he did. Secondarily, he had to read threads of people of a similar height having success with it because he knew shorter people had less weight to lose to get to their goals than he did.

Unseen, Ryan peered at the screen when he heard the sound of Shane scribbling something down on paper. He’d heard all the stuff Shane had said, whether Shane knew it or not, and honestly he just didn’t know what he was supposed to say to any of it. Usually when Shane verbalized these feelings, Ryan was right next to him and able to offer reassurances. _No, I’m not gonna let you destroy yourself; I’m going to help you. We’ll get through this together. You’re okay, you’re strong enough to get past this like you always do._

But Ryan was usually there to actually help him, to make sure he ate actual food, to cook and add in extra calories, to just be with him and help him when he struggled to even eat some small something for a meal. Now, Shane’s ten hours away, far from Ryan’s grasp. He wasn’t able to help him, he could say nice things to him all he wanted but he wasn’t physically there to help him. And that was terrifying, but Ryan didn’t know what he could do about it. He needed to get back to Shane, needed to _save_ Shane, but that wasn’t going to be easy even if there wasn’t a deadly pandemic on.

“Shane, I’m gonna kill you if you make me a fucking widow before I’m even 30.” Ryan whispers into the dark at 6:30, when he’d been able to hear Shane’s snoring through the tinny speakers of his phone for the last hour. Ryan had to get up in a couple hours anyways to edit the footage he’d come here to shoot, so he doesn’t bother trying to sleep now. Just laid awake, listening to the breathing of the man he loves, and praying he can come up with a way to help him before it’s stopped for good.

Shane woke up around 10:30, just after Ryan’s started to actually work, and he gets to see him all soft from sleep, prompting a fond smile to grow on his face as Shane blinks himself conscious. The image is so normal, so tranquil, that Ryan can almost forget that he’s been up all night worrying about this man killing himself. The remembrance of that puts a damper on the moment, but it’s nice nonetheless. God, he wished he never agreed to do this shoot so fucking far away.

“Morning, Ry,” Shane smiles, eyes crinkling up as the sunlight falls across his face, voice rough from sleep. “You sleep good?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, returning the smile even as the lie burns the back of his throat, then lies again: “Sorry I fell asleep after you called.”

A shadow passes over Shane’s eyes for a moment before he shrugs. “‘S fine, babe. Shouldn’t have woken you up so late for nothing anyways.”

The thinly veiled disgust in his voice, at himself, at his neediness, almost makes Ryan flinch. The hollowness of his voice from last night echoes in Ryan’s head like a ghost, _I’ve been disappointing you._

“Shane, listen to me. You can call me at anytime, anywhere, I’ll always answer you. It’s never nothing, if you want to talk to me.”

Shane’s eyes widen at the intensity in his voice, forcing him to pay rapt attention properly despite barely being awake for five minutes. He knows that, he Knows, Ryan wouldn’t have married him if he didn’t mean that kind of thing, but even as he hears Ryan say it there’s something in his bones that whispers _he’s lying._

“I know, Ry,” He says to spite it, voice soft like it had been last night when Ryan hadn’t answered him, and Ryan’s still looking at him with a strange ferocity he can’t quite place.

There’s a period of silence between them, barely broken by the sounds of their breathing, and it’s Shane who finally cuts his eyes away from the screen. There’s something almost desperate shining in Ryan’s eyes, something he apparently can’t find the words to verbalize, and Shane doesn’t understand. He doesn’t ask, either, because he trusts his husband to figure out what he wants to convey and tell him later. With the realization that he’s awake, he’s remembered he needs to weigh himself before his true weight is fucked with by gravity and water weight and whatever the fuck else makes the number falsely high, and that means he needs to finally hang up.

“I’ll let you get back to working,” Shane says, trying not to sound as rushed as he feels, and Ryan squints at him like he’s trying to figure out what he’s hiding from him. “I love you,” he adds and pretends not to notice how Ryan looks like he’s in pain upon hearing it. He doesn’t even want to think about what that look means right now.

“I love you too, babe. Lunch in a couple hours?” Ryan asks carefully and Shane nods, even though he desperately wants to skip out on the routine.

They echo the I love you’s again before actually hanging up and the apartment immediately feels colder without the pretense of Ryan’s presence. The feeling only intensified as Shane took the walk of shame into their bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. The number shown on the scale today made him wanna skip the lunch routine more than ever, but he was being enough of a disgrace to his husband as it was. He resolved to make the biggest pile of vegetables he could scrounge up so it looked like he was eating more than he really was so as to satisfy Ryan, knowing he wouldn’t even actually eat all of that. It wasn’t the calories, it was the thought of putting anything in his stomach that made nausea rise in his throat despite its emptiness.

Shane was at that point in the restriction process by now, around three months in, where he didn’t even feel actual hunger anymore. There was just an ominous feeling of nausea that popped up several times a day, annoying the absolute shit out of him, whether he had eaten or not. He knew sometimes it was because he was chugging water in too short a time period, always recalling vaguely that you Shouldn’t be drinking 44 oz. of water in an hour let alone doing it several times a day, but usually it was just random. He absolutely couldn’t wait until he got back to the point where the only physical feeling he got from food was a satisfying fullness after barely eating anything. That would mean his stomach had shrunken again and he could feel proud of that accomplishment then. A smaller stomach meant eating less and eating less meant weighing less and weighing less meant feeling Better.

He was thankful he was past the point of his body experiencing cravings, which were a fresh Hell in their own class when you were trying to restrict. He’s experienced them so bad before where he would go all day perfectly sticking to his limit just to end up binging on something stupid in the evening because he’d been craving it all day. Binging was the fucking worst because it made him feel like shit both physically and mentally. It was a big sign of failure, honestly, especially when he Knew he could go without binging for months, years even, because he had done it before. He was a sort of pro at restricting, he thought, having it down to an exact science after doing it for so long. Before he’d ever met Ryan he’d been doing it for years and then he and Ryan had been dating for two years before he’d found out about it.

God, that had fucking sucked.

_Ryan had just moved in about two months before and Shane had been so careful about meals around him. Of course, he knew how to give the appearance of eating a lot more than he was in reality so it wasn’t very hard to trick Ryan, especially since there was no reason for the other man to be paying much attention to his eating habits. He went for his runs at night and Ryan himself went to the gym sometimes in the evenings, so that didn’t look very weird either. Things were going great on the Not Telling Ryan About The Food Thing front and Shane was at the lowest weight he’d ever hit, though still not low enough to hit his goal but he was closer than ever. Everything was going great. Until Shane stupidly fainted._

_In Shane’s defense, it wasn’t His Fault. He’d been eating more or less to the calorie limit he’d set for himself, he had cut back on his running because he needed to not look like a freak to Ryan but still ran about 5 miles a night, and he was drinking a whole shit ton of water. He was doing everything right. To be perfectly honest, he was pretty sure he fainted from exhaustion more than anything related to his diet, but it was exposed nonetheless._

_He fell in their kitchen and he hit his head off of the counter as he fell. Understandably, when Ryan had come into the kitchen to find him unconscious in a pool of blood coming from his head, Ryan had called 911 and Shane had woken up in a hospital bed. He was fine, a mild concussion and a pretty sick looking gash on the side of his head, but it had looked much scarier because of course head wounds always bled So Much. Apparently he’d been out for a pretty good while though, since it was dark outside the hospital window when he finally opened his eyes and the last thing he’d remembered was it being midday._

_“Dude, what the fuck did you do that to me for!” Ryan had exclaimed upon noticing his wakefulness, no proper greeting or grateful declarations, and Shane could only smile wryly._

_“Oh, good to see you, babe. I’m fine, thanks for asking-“ He had started to say and Ryan was grinning even as he hit the railing on the bed in surprise at the unexpected snark._

_“Sorry, hi Shane. What the fuck was that?” Ryan repeated, seeming to sober when his eyes once again found the stark white bandage wrapped around Shane’s head. It had been hours,_ **hours** , _of sitting in anxiety waiting for the doctors to determine why Shane had passed out and when he was going to wake up. For a frightening length of time, Ryan had been struck by the crazy idea that Shane wouldn’t wake up at all. He’d freaked himself out with google and horror stories of people’s loved ones hitting their heads so hard they went into coma-like states. He was just happy the nurses had been too engrossed with his distress to really question when he said they were married so he’d be allowed to sit with him instead of the agony of the waiting room by himself. They were dating, so it was just barely a lie, but they weren’t immediate family as hospital policy dictated. He would’ve said anything if it meant he got to reassure himself Shane was still breathing, honestly._

_Shane, oblivious to the actual uncertain hell Ryan had just endured on his behalf, shrugged against the disgustingly sterile sheets he was propped up against._

_“Guess I’ve been working too hard?” He offered up, a small laugh coming with it in an attempt to lighten Ryan’s mood, but Ryan’s eyes only widened at the half-assed answer._

_“I found you bleeding out in front of the dishwasher because you’ve been working too hard?” Ryan asked and Shane made the mistake of nodding, which quickly turned into a wince as the pain in his head made itself known._

_“Yeah, Ry, I work the ten hour days with you and then I edit at home, workout, and maybe get four or five hours of sleep before we have to do it all over again. I think I work kind of hard.” Shane explained, watching as Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed together and he worked out the math in his head._

_“We should stop editing at home. This can’t happen again.” Ryan decided, voice firm and brooking no argument, and Shane accepted it without question. He hated the constant stress and pressure that was working 15 to 18 out of the 24 hours in a day, but it’s not like he was going to complain before. Shit needed to be done. They had a series to run, after all, and that wasn’t even counting the countless other little things Buzzfeed had them working on at any given time. Maybe it would be nice to leave the work at the office at the end of the day._

_The next time Ryan spoke, it was preceded by some of his little habits that always gave away his nervousness. Shane’s own anxiety built as he watched his boyfriend fidget with his fingers and fuck around with his hair for a solid fifteen minutes while he stared down at his lap, Shane too afraid of what it could possibly be to even ask what was up. As he’d predicted, it was nothing Good._

_“Shane? Can you do me a favor?” Ryan had asked to start off the Scary Conversation and damn, if that wasn’t just about the most ominous way to start it off. Nonetheless, Shane had tentatively agreed._

_“Can you try to take better care of yourself, man?” Ryan asked next, voice so full of fear and concern that Shane wanted to scream, and what a curveball that was._

_“What?” Shane squeaked out intelligently._

_“Can you take better care of yourself? I don’t think you’re like, eating enough. Did you know the doctor said you weigh twenty pounds under the normal amount for someone of your gigantic height?” Ryan continued on, unaware that the blood had just frozen in Shane’s veins at the words._

_“Weird,” Shane said, hoping his voice didn’t fit that adjective, as he wracked his brain for any excuses. Technically, yes, he knew his weight was below the normal BMI, but BMI was bullshit anyways and he knew he was still fat despite what that chart said. If he went by that chart, he would be in the really low end of the “underweight” category by the time he finished losing weight and god he couldn’t wait for the day. This weight? It was the lowest he’d ever gotten down to but it was nothing compared to some people who’s bodies he would’ve killed for._

_“Yeah, I don’t think we eat enough together in general,” Ryan was saying when Shane tuned back in from his thoughts. “I’m gonna start cooking, maybe we both can try to be a little healthier? It would be good for us,” Ryan rambled on and Shane tried his damned best to look excited at the idea. He knew it could be worse, Ryan could be talking about a medically mandated meal plans or showing him pamphlets for an in-patient ED clinic, so he counted himself lucky that his boyfriend was seemingly still oblivious to his habits. With the low BMI, he would’ve thought the hospital would have been at least a little alarmed but, Shane reflected, he was a man, not a teenage girl. He had nothing to worry about._

_He’d been released the next day and Ryan had stuck to his word about cooking more actual meals, but it had been okay. Shane had always been picky about his food choices in general and Ryan knew all about how he only liked fish and chicken and most vegetables so it wasn’t exactly hard to keep eating relatively low calorie meals even with them being homemade. Everything went fine for a few months after that, Shane did end up getting more sleep because ryan told their boss they would absolutely not be doing anymore take home work, and life was great on all fronts._

_Until Shane passed out again and this time, it was his fault._

_Shane had gotten bold and decreased his calorie count too quickly, jumping down to half the amount his body was used to, and it just didn’t leave him enough energy to function. This time, he passed out in the hallway on the way to bed, where Ryan was waiting for him. The noise had brought the shorter man running immediately. Shane hadn’t hit his head on anything this time, something he counted himself lucky for as it was the only thing that saved him another ER trip. That, and he’d blinked back to consciousness a few minutes afterwards, head cushioned gently on Ryan’s thighs._

_“First, are you okay? Second, why did this happen again?” Ryan fired off in succession and Shane was still too disoriented to think of something witty to deflect with._

_“Fucked up, sorry.” Was the damning response he managed to slur out and if possible, caused Ryan to panic even more above him._

_“You’re fucked up or you did fuck up because both of those are very scary but very different problems.” Ryan demanded, voice pitched high as he talked fast and Shane really wished his head would stop spinning so he could focus on the other man’s face for a second without wanting to puke._

_“I am fucked up and I did fucked up,” Shane said, oblivious to the implications running through Ryan’s mind about the definition of “fucked up”. He would soon learn that Ryan was thinking he had some kind of secret drug habit he was hiding from him, soon as in mere moments after he said that in fact._

_“Shane, this is very important, what are you on? I’ve gotta Know now,” Ryan said, forcing his words to come out slower due to their importance, and Shane laughed. He couldn’t help it._

_“I’d say I’m on the floor, Ry,” Shane said and Ryan just about lost it._

_“Drugs, Shane, I’m talking about drugs. What the fuck are you taking that’s making you fucking faint all the time?”_

_There wasn’t a time in living memory that Shane had ever shut up faster. What a shocking accusation, that was, and Shane was a little bit offended about it._

_“Ryan, where the hell do you think I would be hiding drugs from you? We live in the same four room apartment, if you hadn’t noticed.” He said dryly, all traces of his earlier mirth gone._

_“I don’t know! Anywhere, it was your apartment first!”_

_“Dude, we sleep in the same bed. You’ve seen me naked countless times? You see my arms and shit all the time so I can’t possibly be doing any hard drugs, plus you know I’m terrified of heroin so how could this be a plausible theory?” Shane asked, grateful that he was still able to pull together logic as he gained his bearings a little more._

_Above him, Ryan was starting to sound indignant in his argument._

_“Yeah, well how do I know it’s not prescription?” He asked, but Shane could tell he was losing faith in his own accusation even as he said it._

_“Am I apart from you long enough to somehow acquire some drugs without you knowing about it?” Shane countered._

_“You go out running for like three hours every evening!”_

_“Yeah, and then I come back absolutely covered in sweat and have to take a shower because of your delicate sensibilities regarding the rank smell of me. I am, in fact, running for those three straight hours in case that wasn’t clear.” Shane explained and man, he was tired of this conversation. He just wanted to go to bed, not lay on the hallway floor convincing his boyfriend he didn’t have a nonexistent addiction issue. Thankfully, the logic caused Ryan to cave and give up that line of questioning pretty quickly. Unfortunately, it set him on a whole new line of questioning what was disastrously close to the truth of the matter._

_“Why do you run so much, anyways? I understand fitness and stuff but you run 5 miles seven days a week, including Christmas. I think that’s a little extreme.” Ryan pronounced, and even through Shane’s slightly shaky vision he could see the cogs working in the other man’s head. Oh shit._

_“Helps me relax? I like running, it’s a leisurely part of my routine.” Shane tried, internally cursing as his own voice betrayed him by pitching up in his nervousness. Ryan caught onto it immediately, narrowing his eyes down at him._

_“Babe, I want you to tell me what’s going on. This is scary for me, there’s something wrong and I don’t know how to help you.” Ryan’s voice was simultaneously raw with naked emotion and soft at the same time, like he was trying not to spook him but he felt what he was saying so thoroughly that he couldn’t keep it out of his voice if he’d wanted to. It broke Shane’s heart to hear the sincerity of it all. God, he was such a piece of shit._

_He wanted to keep up the ruse, wanted to keep this shit private like he always had, but it was hurting Ryan now. He loved Ryan more than anything in the world, more than he had ever loved himself or anyone else, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him. That was all the decision he needed to come to the point of exposing his secret. He could only hope Ryan would stick around once he knew. Part of the reason for keeping it a secret was to make sure he didn’t scare him off with how fucked up he really was._

_“I’ve got, uh, I’ve got some issues with food?” Shane started, tripping over the words as they came out of his mouth, and by Ryan’s expression he could tell that wasn’t where he thought this conversation was going. When the other man didn’t make a move to say something, he continued on. “I don’t like how my body looks, or how much the scale says I weigh, so I diet. A lot. Like a lot a lot. And I’ve been doing it since I was in my teens.”_

_Shane didn’t plan on going into the whole origin story but once he starts going, he can’t seem to stop for anything other than to take a breath every now and again. He only just manages to leave out the more truthful parts about how much he hates himself and how he’s 80% sure he could be literal bones and still not be happy with himself. That would be a little too much to lay on his poor boyfriend. He’d leave him for sure if he told him that stuff. So he doesn’t._

_“I run, I stay hydrated, I drink diet pop all the time, I eat healthy food. I exercise a lot, I guess, and I know I don’t eat as much as a grown ass man is supposed to but that’s all part of dieting. I guess I just cut my calories too quickly this time, that’s all. This has happened to me a few times before, I just got a little bit carried away in the excitement of losing weight at a certain pace that I got overeager and did too much too quickly.” Shane finished the explanation, thankful he hadn’t been interrupted but fearful of what Ryan would say when he finally found it in himself to react verbally. He waited with almost bated breath, already mentally cataloging where Ryan’s items were throughout the apartment for when they would have to start packing his things to take with him when he left, when Ryan finally_ **said something.**

_“A couple months ago, was that This too?” Is Ryan’s first tentative question. Which, okay, not what Shane expected to come out of his mouth first but oh well._

_“No, no I’m pretty sure that was actually exhaustion. I was doing pretty good back then,” Shane assured him, though he didn’t look very reassured by the words._

_“You know I love you just the way you are, right? There’s nothing about you that I think you need to change, nothing that could make me love you any less?”_

_Shane really hoped Ryan wasn’t looking closely enough to see the tears in his eyes as he swallowed down the emotion in his throat before nodding. “Yeah, Ry, course I know that.”_

_“I know you can’t help it, but for what it’s worth? From my perspective, there’s nothing wrong with your body, babe. I’m kind of terrified by how thin you are, actually, but I didn’t know how to bring it up before. I’ve seen you cutting new holes in your belts so your pants would say around your waist,” Ryan is saying and the tears start to roll down Shane’s face despite how much he doesn’t want them to. He’s such an awful person. Ryan sounds so worried, so scared and caring, and Shane doesn’t deserve it for making him sound that way. There’s nothing actually wrong with him, he’s just an asshole doing this to himself. Fucking idiot Shane Madej starves himself because what? His mom was always on his ass when he was a teenager about his weight? It’s been 15 years, he should’ve grown out of this by now. But he hadn’t. And now he was hurting Ryan with it._

_“I’m sorry, Ry, I’m so sorry.” is all he can say. Ryan just gathered him up and pressed his head against his chest. They sit on the floor like that for a while until Shane’d cried himself out and Ryan helped him to bed. Neither of them say anything else about it, but by the next day Ryan’s decided he’s gonna cook at home for every meal and asked Shane very nicely to cut down on the running. He used an excuse about wanting to spend more time with him when he’d asked it, but Shane knew it was wholly influenced by his confessions._

Shane had started trying to stop being so severe in his restriction after that, if only to make sure he didn’t scare Ryan again, and it was just up and down again from there, as it always had been. The only difference was now he had Ryan making sure he was eating and stuff, which was equal parts embarrassing and guilt inducing because yikes Shane was supposed to be his boyfriend not someone to babysit, but it was okay. They’d gotten married a year later, cementing Ryan’s promises to always be there for him, this time explicitly about the “in sickness and in health” part, and Shane had wanted to better himself more than ever. He wouldn’t say he wanted to Get Better, that implied he was sick or something which wasn’t true since he brought this all on himself, but he wanted to stop doing the things he did so Ryan could trust him again. Shane couldn’t imagine the burden of having to cook two meals a day and make sure the person you loved actually ate it. Ryan also had taken up the habit of trying to gauge if he was gaining or losing weight by looking at his body when he got dressed in the mornings, something he thought Shane hadn’t noticed him doing not so stealthily, and that made Shane feel all kinds of exposed that he’d so rather skip out on every morning thanks.

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Shane had liked to think he was doing okay this past year, even working up to actually eating two meals a day like a normal person instead of one meal and then internal panic attack at the kitchen table because he hadn’t actually counted on dinner, and he was only running three miles a night instead of five. An easy food routine had been established with Ryan since their wedding and both were relatively happy with the rhythm of it, even if it was a little weirder than normal people had. But then Ryan went to Montana, the whole world went on lockdown, and Shane was suddenly alone with himself for the first time in years. Yeah, he thought that was probably what brought him back down to the point he was at now. He’d almost fucked up countless times since Ryan started knowing about it, but Ryan knowing about it meant he didn’t have too much time to really spiral downwards that much before Ryan noticed and intervened. That was part of the problem now, he assumed, Ryan was twenty hours away.

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Shane didn’t want his husband to have to be responsible for him. He didn’t want to burden him with his bullshit, especially his food/body bullshit, but he knows this would be harder to do if Ryan was here. He’d still be trying to starve down, he’d gained so much in the last year it really made him want to claw his skin off, but he might be fighting against that urge a little more if Ryan was here to disappoint in person. God, Ryan deserved so much fucking better. Someone he didn’t have to watch like a hawk, someone who could handle the three meals a day he thought should be the norm, someone who wasn’t fascinated by their own skeleton.

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Last night, he’d been a freak and texted Ryan in his excitement of finally being able to feel his hipbones again. It meant his efforts were paying off, it meant he was getting closer to where he needed to be, but in his excitement he forgot that was Bad. He forgot it would cause worry. So he’d called and tried to make it seem like everything was 100% chill, he forgot how late it was, something he should’ve noted considering Ryan literally fell asleep half an hour into the call. Shane regretted the whole thing, overall.

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Ryan had been a little strange when he’d woken up this morning, but maybe that was just Shane’s mind playing tricks on him with his four hours of sleep and 600 calories of daily sustenance. He wasn’t gonna call him out on it, but he himself was about to be called out if he fucked up this lunch date. If Ryan asked about his food choice, he could honestly tell him they were out of most groceries as an excuse. They were, Shane hadn’t wanted to risk going out very much since the whole pandemic started, so it wasn’t a whole lie.

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For the two meals that day, and every day after that, Shane hopes Ryan can’t see the resignation in his eyes along with the ever dwindling size of the food on the plates in front of him. Maybe the video quality is just bad enough to disguise both. They don’t Talk about it and Shane assumed Ryan had put the whole weird night out of his mind after two weeks had passed. Shane’s collarbones were more prominent now and the ever-present coldness had settled deep into his marrow again, so he buried himself in hoodies that still smelled vaguely like Ryan (who insisted on snatching his clothing to sleep in) but thankfully, Ryan hadn’t mentioned that either. It was over 85 degrees in LA most days, but Ryan didn’t necessarily have to be in possession of that small bit of knowledge.

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It takes about two months after that before Shane sends a Bad text to Ryan in the middle of the day and this time, Ryan is the one initiating the FaceTime call. Not before sending an emergency text to Steven Lim, but pretty fucking immediately.

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_Do not stand at my grave and cry  
I am not there  
I did not die_

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He almost screams when Shane doesn’t answer the video call request, calming only slightly when the infuriating man retaliates with an actual phone call instead.

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“Shane, please tell me you just have a newfound interest in poetry.” Ryan demanded as soon as the call connected. He can barely hear the hollowness in his love’s voice over his own heart beating in his ears but it’s unmistakably there.

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“Did you know that wasn’t Emily Dickenson? I really thought it was but I was Wrong again I guess,” Shane said, sounding distracted and impossibly far, and Ryan’s heart clenched in fear.

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“Shane, baby? Can you tell me if- if you’re okay?” Ryan asked, breath hitching as he tried to quash down the panic gathering right in his chest. The unspoken _Can you tell me what you’ve done to yourself?_ crackled like electric between them, a tangible thing traveling down the phone line until Ryan was sure Shane had heard it anyway.

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There’s silence on the line for an eternity before Shane manages to say something else. The click in his throat as he swallows is the loudest sound since the call began.

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“I really wish you were here, Ry,” The exhaustion is palpable and god, Ryan would give anything to be right beside him at this moment. It sounds too much like _goodbye_ and _I’m sorry_ and _I can’t do this anymore_ and Ryan doesn’t even notice the tears rolling down his own face as he wonders why Steven hasn’t busted into their apartment by now.

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“Shane, can you at least tell me you don’t need the hospital? Can I have that reassurance?” Ryan whispered and was struck by the realization that the answer could well be a lie, intentional or not. Either Shane was too sick to know what state he was really in, which was a frighteningly real possibility, or he could just not want the medical help. Ryan wasn’t sure which was worse.

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“I’m okay, babe. It’s okay,” Damn Shane for managing to somehow sound comforting, channeling the shadow of the voice he usually reserved for when Ryan was freaking out in ghost locations, despite the deep sadness underlying every word. It’s a lie, it feels like a lie, but it manages to slow down Ryan’s breathing a little bit anyway.

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Ryan’s phone vibrated in his hand and he put Shane on speaker so he could see Steven’s concerned text and his heart beats faster in his chest.

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_**He won’t answer the door** _

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Ryan hadn’t even heard the knocking as background noise on Shane’s end, so that meant he wasn’t near the front door to begin with.

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“Shane, if you can, will you let Steven in? He’s at the door,” Ryan’s voice sounds alien to his own ears, a bit strangled and strained, but he’s too scared to care right now. There’s something very deeply wrong, he knows in his gut like he knows his own name, and it’s terrifying.

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“Not locked.” Shane admitted softly and Ryan shakily typed the message to relay to Steven. A moment later, he can hear him distantly calling Shane’s name. “Love you, Ry,” Shane said and before Ryan can answer, the shorter man is met with the clattering sound of the phone meeting the tiled floor. It hadn’t fallen far and Ryan isn’t sure what to do with knowing Shane was sitting (laying?) on the floor. He didn’t want to consider it hadn’t been a real choice to end up there.

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Distantly, he can hear Steven’s voice saying something to Shane and Shane, much quieter than him, maybe saying something back but it’s too far away for Ryan to actually make out the words because Shane’s phone hadn’t been on speaker. This goes on for a few minutes, Ryan straining his eardrums trying to figure out what’s going on on the other end, some kind of clue as to the state his husband is in, before there’s a door shutting and the voices fade out entirely. Ryan waited, hoping someone would come back to the phone, for several minutes before he made himself hang up. Immediately he sent a text to Steven, borderline begging to know if Shane was alright, and settled in to wait for the reply, whatever the answer may be.

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The scene that had greeted Steven Lim as he crept through the apartment, bad feeling in his chest from the ominousness of the unlocked front door, still had him reeling twenty minutes after he’d tried to help the situation. The entire apartment had been dark, no tv or any music playing to cut the silence, and Steven couldn’t be sure Shane was even in there at first. He’d finally gotten to the opening of the hallway that led back to both the bedroom and the en suite and spotted to small sliver of light coming from under the latter door. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what was on the other side.

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Shane had been laying with his limbs curled up tight around his body, an imitation of the protective position one would be in to protect against an attacker. Steven hadn’t known it was possible for someone to look so small, especially someone of Shane’s height. His eyes were closed, giving the illusion of empty sockets with the near bruising of the dark circles there, expression the perfect picture of pain and misery, and he hadn’t seemed to notice when Steven came in. The worst was his lips, blood streaked down the side of his face where it had dropped out the side of them, the red a sharp contrast against the sun bleached white of the rest of his skin. Every breath he took seemed to cause his body to shudder, the only indication aside from the cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder that he wasn’t just a fucked up art installation.

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“Shane, are you okay?” Steven has asked, approaching the prone figure, and Shane had finally opened bloodshot eyes to look at him. Shane grinned tiredly at him, thin lips pulling back to reveal bloody teeth, an ugly foreign thing that Steven was so glad Ryan wasn’t here to see. The phone dropped from its place in the crook of Shane’s neck when he shifted to look up at him, dropping to rest on the tile below.

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“Do I look okay?” Shane had asked in return, so low Steven could barely hear him, wincing as the words came out of his throat. He’d fucked up big time, almost without meaning to, and now Ryan had sent Steven here. The pounding in his head didn’t let him decide Steven’s purpose, vague notions of this being Ryan’s way of throwing him out swirling in his mind. That was okay, though, he deserved to be kicked out. Who wants a husband who gets blood all over the bathroom floor because he’d freaked out about eating more than he had in a month? He should’ve just not gotten out of bed today, he mused, watching Steven’s lips move like he was saying something but unable to focus on what it was, because then he wouldn’t be in this position.

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It had started out a good idea, try to eat more today so Ryan wouldn’t actually come home to a corpse, but after he’d eaten he’d had a panic attack about the huge amount of food he’d just put in his body and he’d needed to Get It Out. So he’d shoved a toothbrush to the back of his throat and threw up until he was sure there physically wasn’t anything left in his stomach, throat burning and abdomen aching, but he knew that half of the calories were still there. Purging didn’t really work well for anyone, he knew it didn’t, but he’d been so desperate today he’d Had to. Despite not bringing up anything but liquid, he’d kept retching, trying to expel the rest of the calories before they’d digested, and that’s how he’d ended up here. He was exhausted and in pain and so, so sick of the metallic taste in his mouth from the blood, but he didn’t have the energy to get up. He’d just curled up, trying to put pressure on his midsection to alleviate the pain a little bit, and imagined he was dying for a while.

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The musings about dying and the illusion of being worthy of a graveside visit had led his brain to recall an old poem, the last lines of it really, and he’d recovered enough strength to wiggle the phone out of his pocket and send the verse to the only one in the world who would maybe visit his grave. This move, like so many that Shane had made before, was a Mistake Immediately, leading Ryan to try and FaceTime him. Shane was aware that he had to look like shit right now, if he looked even half as bad as he felt, and he didn’t want to scare his husband with that. That’s why he’d opted for a regular phone call, but the panic undercurrent to all of Ryan’s words let him know that he’d scared him regardless. Shane wished he would just finally drop dead and give Ryan some peace in life. Steven was here though, supporting most of his weight as he dragged him to the couch, so he guessed today wasn’t going to be the day that happened.

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“Can you-“ Shane started to ask, prompting Steven to focus on him as he cleared his throat to try again. “Can you ask Ryan to plant flowers all over my grave?”

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“You can ask him sometime, man. It’s not something that will happen in the near future so you’ve got time to discuss it with him.” Steven said, sounding a little bit unconvinced of his own words even as he said them. He gave Shane a long look before going back to fussing over trying to pile blankets around him, tucking them close in around his body. Shane didn’t say anything else.

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“I’m going to get a washcloth and clean the blood off your face, okay? Be right back,” Steven instructed and Shane cocked an eyebrow in amusement at the thought of possibly not being right here in the minute it would take him to get the cloth. Right now, he was too weak to make it to the doorway by himself let alone out of the apartment. He almost laughed at the thought but knew it would make his throat hurt more. It was irritated enough just from the little talking he’d been doing, first on the phone and now to Steven.

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He hoped he would leave soon so he could rest. He didn’t know what time it was, only that it wasn’t yet dark, but he was ready to just go to sleep now. Anything to escape the pain that seemed to encompass his entire body as it radiated from his stomach and throat. He was so fucking stupid to have done this in the first place. Purging had never been his thing, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d ever tried it, but he’d been desperate. And now he was paying the price for that decision and would still probably gain anyways, making the whole thing pointless.

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Steven came back, warm washcloth in hand, and sat down in front of the couch to be more level with Shane as he cleaned the blood off. It took a bit of scrubbing because it had dried by now and he apologized when he saw Shane wince at the roughness. It didn’t take long to clean it off and Steven even tried to gently get the blood off of his lips, but there was nothing he could do about the sharp taste of blood that still filled Shane’s mouth. Shane didn’t know if it would ever leave or just be an ever-present reminder that he was fucked up.

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After he’d finished, Steven throws the washcloth in the kitchen sink and settled himself into one of the chairs across the room. He hadn’t said anything more, just leveled a look at him that Shane couldn’t quite read but thought maybe held concern, and started swiping around on his phone. Shane couldn’t recall where he’d lost his own phone, somewhere between the bathroom and the couch, so he didn’t have anything to distract himself with. Unbeknownst to him, Steven was texting Ryan.

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**He’s okay, I’m staying with him**

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_He didn’t sound very okay, Steven!_

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****Let me rephrase, he’s not Great but he’s alright for right now** **

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_Why am I not reassured_

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**I know this is sensitive, but how long has he been starving himself like this? I could probably pick him up with no trouble right now**

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There was a beat before Ryan answered that one.

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**_I didn’t think it had gotten so bad_ **

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Then:

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_I knew something was up a few months ago but I didn’t ask him about it_

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And:

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_I wish I had never left him alone_

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On the couch, Shane watched through half-lidded eyes as Steven seemed to glare at the phone before determinedly typing on it, fingers flying across the screen rapidly.

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**No. No. Ryan, this isn’t your fault. We both know Shane’s very sick and this happened because of that sickness. It would’ve probably happened if you were glued to his side. Don’t you ever blame yourself for the things that someone else does.**

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_Thanks Steven_  
_I just don’t know how to help him_  
_I thought he was getting better again just before this shoot started_

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**I’m gonna try to get him to drink some soup or something. I think he messed up his throat. Is there any kind of soup he’d be more likely to say yes to?**

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_I don’t know if he’s bought any recently but there’s a low calorie brand of chicken noodle that’s already in a cup thing? We keep it in the cabinet above the sink if we have any_

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Steven went to the kitchen and, pulling open the specified cabinet, was rewarded with exactly one can of soup. He checked the surrounding cabinets to see if he could find something to make with it, knowing at least the heated liquid would probably help the damage to Shane’s throat, but frowned as he opened empty cabinet after empty cabinet. The cupboard underneath the silverware drawer had two six packs of 50 calorie energy drinks, but there wasn’t any other food in the whole kitchen. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he opened the refrigerator and it was the same story.

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****Send me a grocery list? Kitchen’s empty.** **

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He sent Ryan, along with a picture of the cabinets with doors wide open to show the bare shelves.

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Ryan didn’t want to know how long they had been that way, especially considering Shane had been eating fresh and frozen vegetables on their meal calls the last several days. Before Steven’s phone buzzed with the list, he had already settled himself back in his seat and searched his mind for the right thing to say to the man in front of him. He’d thrown the soup in the microwave after he’d texted Ryan and now it was cooling on the coffee table between them.

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“Give me one good reason for not taking you to a hospital right now,” Steven said, eyes trained on the dainty wrist poking out of Shane’s sleeve where it had ridden up as he reached for the soup. To his disappointment, he grabbed it only to hold and warm his hands, not even trying to act like he would drink it.

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“You wanna take me to a hospital? During the health crisis? Come on, man” Shane whispered, a vain attempt to irritate his throat less. The sarcasm was still clear, nonetheless. “I’m fine, Steven. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” The grin that accompanied the statement was full of irony.

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“Can I sleep over?” Steven asked, letting Shane have the illusion that this was still under his own control. Ryan had already informed him he’d feel safer if Shane wasn’t alone any longer, at least until he was in the right frame of mind to actually take care of himself, so the question was redundant. Shane didn’t need to know that though.

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Shane only shrugged in response, eyes closed. He hadn’t slept properly in days despite being wholly exhausted and today’s trauma on his body had taken what little energy had remained. He hoped he would at least sleep a few hours. He didn’t even care he wasn’t in their bed, he didn’t have the strength to move off of the couch by himself and he wasn’t about to ask Steven to drag his fat ass all the way to the bedroom. He’d probably wake up before it was actually time for bed, so he wasn’t worried about where Steven would sleep that night. It was sometime early in the afternoon right now, surely he’d be off the couch by the time night properly fell. That was a problem for future Shane, he decided, turning his face into the soft material of the hood on his sweatshirt, relishing in the comfort it brought.

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Steven waited until Shane’s breathing had evened out before he cleaned the blood from the bathroom floor, taking note of the towel that had been clipped onto the mirror as he did. He needed to call Ryan. 

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	2. something different when I see you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title, once again from Hozier, this time from “It Will Come Back”
> 
> Hey, just a couple of disclaimers before we get into this chapter. 1) I don’t know much about Steven’s personality so he’s probably very unrealistic here than he is in actuality, but I’m sure in real life he’d be a lot more sympathetic to anyone struggling the way Shane is. 2) Obviously, the unhealthy things Shane does throughout this fic and the thoughts that he rationalizes those things with are not healthy or to be taken as any kind of rational facts. I try to balance out Shane’s ED logic with actual logic when I can 
> 
> Also there will be more chapters to come, don’t know how many yet, but if there’s any scenes/scenarios you’d like to see explored or even just want to talk about the fic, you can leave suggestions as a comment if you want or send me an ask on tumblr @the-madejia! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

“Your kitchen isn’t empty anymore and I came up with a few recipes I can make for him that are nutritious, any ideas on getting him to actually eat? He wouldn’t even touch the soup a few hours ago,” Steven asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake up Shane in the other room. He’d ordered everything on the grocery list, plus a few extras he thought he could bulk up meals with, and had picked it all up without the other man even moving but still. His friend was completely worn out, that much was clear from just looking at his face, so he didn’t want to disturb him if he could help it. He’d waited to call Ryan until after the grocery run, partly because he needed time to wrap his head around the situation he was now part of and partly because he wanted to distract himself from the true severity of the situation by busying his hands as he talked on the phone to him. Currently, he was trying to make a vegetable stew, cutting up carrots as he waited for Ryan to respond to his query. 

“It’s kind of complicated? If no other reason, sometimes he’ll eat something for me just because he feels bad that I went to the trouble of cooking I think,” Ryan started and Steven had been very careful since the call began to not to comment on how his voice sounded like he’d been crying. “If he doesn’t want to, he won’t though.” 

“Ryan, he’s pretty bad, man. If I can’t get him to eat something, the next stop is the hospital.” Steven didn’t want to scare him, but Ryan needed to understand how much worse off Shane was right now. 

In the living room, Shane was waking up, stirred by the scent of the chicken broth wafting from the kitchen. He could tell that Steven was talking in the kitchen but the words were indistinguishable due to the low volume and the space between the couch and the other room. He couldn’t be bothered to care so much who was on the other end of the call, probably Steven’s family or something. Could be anyone really, considering the entire world was relegated to communicating via phone right now.

As he’d slept, the muscles in his abdomen had relaxed a bit, and he was so grateful that the pain there had slackened up a bit. He didn’t think swallowing aspirin was a possibility right now, even the thought of it scraping down his throat was enough to make him shudder, so he was just going to have to deal with his body feeling like this until it passed. If he had his phone, he could google to see how long it would be until his throat didn’t feel raw and torn up, but he’d have to go looking for it. Oh joy. 

Sighing, Shane slowly sat up and braced himself on the edge of the coffee table, ready to catch himself if he pitched forward, before carefully straightening up. Despite his caution, he still ended up with his vision blacking out momentarily before it cleared again. That was just par for the course though, that had started happening somewhere around the 800 calorie limit and it made sense it stayed around as he went lower. Something about electrolyte imbalance and blood pressure dropping as he stood up. 

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to make it the short distance from the couch, down the hall into the bedroom, and into the bathroom, having had to stop and wait for some of the strength to come back after so little movement forward, but he made it without incident. He found his phone face up on the sink, which he was 85% sure was not where he’d put it because he vaguely remembered talking to Ryan on the floor, but he figured Steven had picked it up. The shining tile where he’d laid hours before told him the other man had at least been in here to clean so it wasn’t a stretch. 

Unsurprisingly, or maybe it was, he didn’t have any notifications when he switched on the screen. He’d expected maybe a text from Ryan, he couldn’t recall hanging up with him earlier so he was probably worried, but there was nothing. Shane grabbed the phone and slipped it into his pocket, deciding he’d apologize once he got back to the couch. 

Steven was still in the kitchen when Shane made it back, meaning he probably hadn’t even noticed he’d ventured off, which was just as well. Shane didn’t want to be fussed over. He just had to get through tonight and then he wouldn’t have to worry about somebody else in his space anymore. 

He opened his phone to find that his meal logging app was still open where he’d been putting in his calories of his mistake meal today before he’d freaked out about it. It had been 529 calories, nearly five times the amount he’d been eating daily, and honestly probably wouldn’t have stayed down naturally for long anyway, being such a shock to the system. It was stupid, he lamented again, and all of his calories for the day had been consumed four times over only to end up flushed down the toilet. Stupid, Shane, you fucking idiot. 

He didn’t want to put anything else in his stomach today, especially nothing with calories, but he knew he was never going to get any stronger if he didn’t get some kind of nutrients in him. The energy drinks he drank everyday were the kind from V8, made from fruit and vegetable juice, so he felt like they had the sort of nutrients he was lacking. It was 50 calories, and logically he knew he wasn’t going to gain from that, but when you fuck around with your body as much as he had in the last two decades you could never expect it to go by the logical rules. He’d gained on 100 calories before, he was pretty sure, but it was either drink the 50 now and stop feeling so weak all over or don’t and feel like shit forever. It should’ve been an easy choice but he still debated over it for ten minutes before making up his mind. If nothing else, the coldness of the liquid would maybe sooth his throat. He typed it into the app and swiped the whole thing away. 

Usually, he would be able to also log his exercise so the calories would detract and he could physically see that he was in fact burning calories, but he’d had to stop going out running when he’d cut down to 500 calories and he’d almost passed out in the street mid way through. That had scared him enough to forgo most exercise, aside from pacing the apartment sometimes just to at least hit his step goal, so he just had to live with it saying 0 calories burned on the exercise tab of his daily log. He had to live with it but he still felt like a failure because of it, never mind that he knew his body burned a certain amount of calories just keeping him alive day to day. 

He repeated the process of carefully standing from the couch and made his slow way to the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed behind Steven’s turned back, and quietly opened the refrigerator. He would need to restock his energy drinks in there, he noted, grabbing one of the three left. This time, he bypassed the couch, grabbing one of the softest blankets as he went, and headed to the bedroom. Steven could do what he wanted, but Shane wasn’t up for any more socializing today. He was tempted to just go back to sleep, but knew the little bit of caffeine in the energy drink would make that a desire that wouldn’t come to fruition for hours afterwards. Sighing, he popped the tab on the can and took a small sip, the coolness of it doing wonders to the inflammation of his poor throat. 

He sat in the quiet darkness for a little bit, trying to work out in his mind what he was going to say to Ryan, trying to come up with reasons his husband would possibly still want to be with him. For a wild moment he fixated on the idea that it was just easier to stay with him because they were known as a pair now, especially with Watcher, and it would be a big spectacle if their marriage broke apart in such a public sphere. But then he remembered Ryan could care less about what other people thought and he was left with no other reason but that Ryan was just too kind to leave him. Shane was a pathetic dumpster fire of a human being, full of flaws inside and out, unable to really offer anything except his undying love and maybe some shitty jokes sometimes. He wasn’t attractive, his body was massive in all senses of the word, and his mind was so fucked up. He couldn’t see why Ryan had agreed to go on that first date with him years ago, let alone why he’d agreed to marry him, but he was sure it was going to end anytime. Shane would push him too far one day and though he wouldn’t blame Ryan for leaving, he would be shattered all the same. 

As he thought, he fiddled with the black band on left hand. Ryan had said when they picked the rings out that the gold was too old school and made him feel like he was 55 or something and the silver just didn’t feel like a wedding band, so they’d gone with the black onyx instead. Both bands were engraved on the inside with their names and the date they wed, a simple heart to end off the engraving. 

A couple of weeks ago Shane had had to switch the band from his ring finger, where it properly was supposed to sit, to his middle finger. He was proud of it being a sign he was succeeding in losing the weight, but it made him a little anxious about potentially losing the ring if it were to slide off his finger without his notice. It would soon be too loose on the middle finger too and he didn’t know what he’d do then. He wasn’t fond of the idea of not wearing it, it was the most visible exclamation of his love for his husband he had, so he guessed he’d have to get a necklace to put it on if that happened. He wondered if Ryan was still wearing his or if he’d taken it off the minute he’d left LA, not wanting the same proclamation of love to be shown to the world. Again, Shane wouldn’t blame him if he had. 

Shane was pulled from his musings by a shadow blocking the light from the hallway and looked up to find Steven peering around the door jamb. 

“Hey, can you join me for dinner? I made some veggie soup, my mother’s old family recipe,” Steven said and Shane’s brain was already scrambling for an excuse. 

Considering that Steven had walked in to find him laying in front of the toilet a few hours ago, he didn’t think any of the usual ones were viable. Still, he had to try to get out of this. 

“I don’t feel like it, dude,” He tried, voice coming out more hoarse than it was the last time he’d spoken aloud, and Steven looked at him with a small bit of sympathy clear in his expression, along with something else Shane couldn’t quite identify. The smile on his lips was pitying though and that was one thing Shane actively wanted to avoid. Pity shouldn’t be leveled at people who create their own misery. 

“The broth at least will help, I think. I’m sure your throat’s gotta hurt and the heat will be good for it,” Steven persisted and Shane sighed, resigned. 

He checked the time on his phone and saw it was about the time he and Ryan usually FaceTimed for the evening meal anyways and he had no way of escaping Steven, even if he desperately wanted to, so he stood up. He had put off talking to Ryan long enough, he guessed, but he hadn’t really wanted to talk to him in front of anybody. It was quickly becoming apparent that he didn’t have a choice in the matter right now though. He followed Steven to the kitchen, feeling slightly like he was being led to the gallows. 

Shane didn’t miss how the bowl in front of him was noticeably larger than the one in front of Steven’s place setting. There was a big neon sign flashing in his mind that this was a dangerous situation here, likely a set up too, but he was set on at least feigning like he was going to eat this meal. Steven had gone to the effort of cooking it (and apparently of getting the groceries to do so, Shane was reasonably sure there wasn’t any of this in the kitchen this morning), so he’d do him the service of that at least. 

The two of them sat down on opposite ends of the table and Shane immediately started going through the motions of a twice daily routine, one formed specially for calling with Ryan. He took the salt and pepper shakers and sat them side by side, grabbing a candlestick holder to put behind them. It wasn’t a great setup but if he didn’t do it this way, the weight of his phone would instantly knock the shakers over and that kind of defeated the whole purpose of them as a phone stand. As he went about setting this up, Steven gave him an odd look and he felt like he needed to explain himself. He’d never shared a FaceTime meal with Ryan while in the presence of somebody else before so he guessed he hadn’t considered that the ritual might be strange to an outsider. 

“Me and Ryan eat together like this when we’re not in the same place,” He said, noting with satisfaction that his voice sounded stronger than it had before the energy drink. “It’s less work to do this to keep the phone propped up than it is to go to the trouble of setting up a proper stand.” 

“So you’re calling Ryan right now?” Steven asked and Shane nodded, unlocking his phone and pressing the contact labeled “Ry 👻💕” before he could lose his nerve. 

The call barely had time to ring in before Ryan’s face appeared on the screen and Shane grinned instantly, deciding to ignore how Ryan’s expression had fallen when he’d laid eyes on him. Shane wouldn’t be too happy to see himself either. 

“Hey Ry, Steven’s across the table from me but I didn’t want to miss dinner with you, hope you don’t mind,” Shane explained, sounding apologetic, and Ryan had to stop himself from flinching at how awful he sounded. To be honest, Shane’s voice sounded like his throat had been scrubbed raw with a steel sponge. He’d been surprised to even get a call, judging by the state Steven had said he’d found him in earlier today, Ryan had figured dinner wouldn’t even be a possibility this evening. But then, Shane was always full of surprises. 

“That’s fine, babe. What are we having?” Ryan asked, carefully avoiding the obviously stupid question that wanted to be asked instead. Shane wasn’t doing Good, he could see that, had seen that more and more everyday for months, so asking how he was would be redundant. 

“Some kind of concoction Steven whipped up, I think it’s edible,” Shane said, holding up a spoon of broth to show him, and Ryan laughed along with him at the slight jab at their friend’s cooking. It wasn’t a good jab, only ironic because Steven was the best cook out of the three of them by far, but Ryan would agree with anything that made Shane laugh right now. 

“I’m still waiting on my food to finish cooking, I didn’t even think about the time,” Ryan said, glancing off to the left where Shane knew the Airbnb’s stove was. While Ryan’s attention was elsewhere, Shane took the opportunity to really look at his husband’s face and hated the dark circles he found there. 

“Have you been sleeping okay, babe?” Shane asked, frowning, and Ryan nodded. He hadn’t been but Shane would hear the lie in the way his voice would change octaves. Ryan hadn’t slept well for the last week really, nightmares haunting him with images of gravestones bearing the name Madej and coffins filled with skeletons wearing Shane’s favorite red flannel. The realism of these dreams was what really terrified him. So no, he hadn’t been sleeping very well at all, but Shane didn’t need to know that. 

The meal continued on with the two of them making small talk, both carefully dancing around the issue at hand, for the hour it took Shane to make a believable show of eating his soup. To his credit, he did eat a tiny bit of it, not minding that little amount because chicken broth was so low calorie it didn’t ultimately matter for just a few spoonfuls. Ryan was just happy he’d eaten any of it, remembering darker times when Shane had straight out refused to put anything in his body. 

Shane doesn’t get the chance to apologize for not hanging up properly earlier because Ryan doesn’t mention that call at all, to his relief. He still felt bad about it, but Ryan couldn’t have been too upset about the slight if he hadn’t mentioned it. Ryan also hadn’t asked about his voice, but Shane wrote that off as Ryan probably being distracted by something that actually mattered, like their job. 

“What are we gonna do about filming if my voice is still fucked up tomorrow?” Shane asked when the conversation was winding down and Ryan’s eyebrows drew together in thought. They had to film for Watcher Weekly tomorrow, hopefully after Steven had gone back to his own place so their audience didn’t think they were breaking the quarantine, but Shane’s voice would give out at this rate. They usually filmed for about an hour and cut it down in editing before posting, but neither of them thought Shane could talk that long without losing his voice. He’d talked for maybe twenty minutes out of the past hour they’d been having dinner and his voice had gotten worse as time went on, now down almost to a whisper. Either Shane was gonna have to not talk a lot when they filmed or he’d have to bow out of filming altogether, both options would have the audience asking questions. 

Ryan had been reading the comments on their videos recently and the audience was already talking about Shane’s health. They too had noticed that Shane’s jawbone could cut glass, that you could stack change in the dips of his collarbones, that his eyes looked more like empty sockets now. If nothing else, they had noticed his ever present hoodies. It didn’t take a genius to know Los Angeles was hot in July, so they were naturally concerned. With this all in mind, Ryan considered that it was likely easier to play off Shane’s voice as something like strep throat if he did the video than it would be to deal with theories running rampant if he didn’t. 

“Just try not to say too much, maybe? You’re gonna ruin your throat more if you talk a lot and irritate it before it heals up,” Ryan suggested and saw the cogs turning behind Shane’s eyes as he thought it over. 

“I’m pretty sure the audience will notice, Ry,” He pointed out. “My voice might get better by tomorrow though, so it’s a problem for when we actually film. Maybe it’ll be fine by then,” He said, hoping it would if only so he wasn’t a disappointment to the people who watched their videos every week. He hadn’t foreseen his little freak out having an effect on their work but he hated himself a little bit more as he was realizing it would. For such an academically smart man, he sure was an idiot. 

“It’ll be okay, babe. We’ll figure something out. Try to rest your throat tonight and keep drinking soup and other hot things to try and sooth it, okay?” Ryan assured, the second request an attempt to get his husband to keep getting much needed calories. It was a vain attempt, but he thought maybe the benefits it would bring would outweigh Shane’s illusions of gaining weight from a few cups of broth. Shane looked doubtful. 

“I’ll try,” He promised, and they both knew he’d probably end up drinking tea only, but it was genuine nonetheless. Ryan sent him a small smile anyway and the guilt settled in Shane’s chest. 

“I love you,” Ryan said, trying to convey in those three words all of the feelings he felt for the man he was saying it to, all the fear he held that he was really going to destroy himself, all the devotion he held for him, all the love in his heart. It comes out a little manic but he thinks Shane got it. 

“I love you too, Ryan, talk to you tomorrow?” Shane said back. Ryan, to his own immense relief, heard _I’ll still be here tomorrow; I won’t leave you_.

Ryan smiled, an expression his husband returned, for real this time, before ending the call. 

Shane’s smile faltered as he laid the phone facedown on the table beside his still full bowl. Across from him, Steven had an eyebrow cocked, looking pointedly at his meal. Shane had been so focused on Ryan that he’d forgotten their friend was even here, forgotten someone could actually see how he was avoiding really eating, and god he hoped Steven went home soon. He briefly entertained the idea of rescinding his permission for him to spend the night, that way he could avoid the debacle that was sure to be an attempt at making him eat breakfast, but that would be rude and hard to explain away. What would he even say, “sorry Steven I need you to fuck off because I’m scared you’re gonna make me eat again”? Yeah, not happening. 

“Would you want to eat something after you’d spent two and half hours throwing up, man?” Shane said when the silence dragged on with Steven silently judging him for not eating to his standard. It came out a little defensive, but Shane hated feeling like he was under observation like a science experiment. This was his house, his kitchen, and Steven was a guest here, he had no right to impose any expectations about shit that frankly wasn’t any of his business. 

“You’re going to die, Shane. You can’t keep this up,” Steven’s voice had an edge to it, like he had some kind of authority here, and Shane pushed himself away from the table. He didn’t have to listen to this. He wanted to leave the kitchen right then, but Obi chose that moment to sit in front of his empty bowl and begin to meow. Fuck, he’d forgotten to feed the cat with all the shit he’d been going through today and it was already night time. Obi was the only real responsibility Shane had and he’d neglected him in his self absorbed shit today. 

As he grabbed the container of food from the pantry, he heard Steven scoff behind him. He whipped around, stumbling slightly as the world threatened to tilt at the speed, and glared at him. 

“What?” The venom in his tone wasn’t as sharp as he’d intended thanks to the weakened state of his voice but it was definitely there. The fire starting behind his eyes conveyed the anger he felt well enough without it. 

“You didn’t have any real food in this whole kitchen but you have four bags of cat food?” Steven asked, incredulous and Shane narrowed his eyes. 

“Obi needs to be fed, dude. I like my cat to be alive,” Shane said. Unlike people food, he bought cat food in bulk because it was heavy and he’d rather lift four bags when he knew he had the strength than not be able to lift one bag when he didn’t. He wasn’t stupid, he planned things like that because he knew his body wasn’t reliable. 

“So you recognize that things do need to eat or they die?” Steven had an eyebrow raised, a challenging tone to his voice, and Shane was just about to scream. 

“Yes, Steven, I’m not a fucking idiot. I know food is necessary to sustain life, and I myself do consume food to keep living, so why don’t you get off my back? Until a couple hours ago, you weren’t here and I sure as hell got on fine before then.” Shane snapped, slamming the cat food container down on the counter. Obi ran from the room at the noise. 

“Yeah, you look perfectly fine.” Steven mocked. “I find you looking like a corpse on your bathroom floor after receiving a panicked text from Ryan that he thought you were about to die and you have the gall to tell me you’ve been doing fine.” 

The fight drained out of Shane at the mention of his husband. He hadn’t known that’s why Steven had come when he had. 

“Ryan thought I was going to die?” He asked, voice small as the gravity of that weighed down on him. He’d scared Ryan so bad as to call on someone else to come check on him, to make sure he hadn’t self destructed in his absence? He’d hurt Ryan yet again, his selfish bullshit making him send stupid messages that scared his husband. He hated himself more in that moment than he had before, if possible. He was such an awful person. 

“Yeah, he did. What the fuck else was he supposed to think when you send him a message out of nowhere talking about graves and then being so out of it on the phone he couldn’t even tell what was actually wrong?” Steven continued, voice rising as he remembered how he’d just spent an hour on the phone with his friend trying to stop him from blaming himself for the state Shane was in, how Ryan thought it was his fault for leaving on a work trip instead of being able to watch his husband. That was such bullshit, Steven’s blood boiled at the remembrance of it. Shane was in this position because he’d gotten himself there. It wasn’t Ryan’s responsibility to take care of him, married or not. He should be able to trust him not to actively make himself sick in his absence. 

“I- I wasn’t thinking. I don’t even really remember what either of us said on that phone call, just that I didn’t get to hang up properly because you came,” Shane admitted, stuttering over the beginning of the sentence as it really sunk in how badly he’d fucked up with Ryan today. Ryan deserved so much better than someone who would put him through that. 

“Maybe, just maybe, you should start thinking about Ryan instead of yourself for once. Do you have any idea how hard this has to be on him? To watch you wasting away in front of his eyes? Do you know he spent twenty minutes crying on the phone to me because he’s so scared for you?” Steven continued his tirade. He didn’t know the full story, but he had eyes too. He’d been filming for the past few months with Shane, reviewing and editing footage that required him to stare at him for hours, and he had seen him getting thinner and thinner as time wore on. All he knew was that fact coupled with the bare kitchen and the fact that Shane had evidently spent hours throwing up with no other physical signs of illness all painted a pretty clear picture in his mind. 

Shane felt like he’d had the breath knocked out of him. This wasn’t supposed to affect other people. This was something he did to himself. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone else. This was his quest to fix his body. He knew Ryan was disappointed in him when he didn’t eat, so he tried his best to eat to appease him. He didn’t know that Ryan had actually been able to tell that he was losing weight, he himself could barely see a difference even this close to his goal weight, that it hadn’t even crossed his mind that it would be enough to cause worry. Maybe he _was_ a fucking idiot. 

“I don’t mean to hurt him,” He whispered, loud in the otherwise silent apartment, head down in shame. 

“Yeah, well you’re doing a great job at it. What are you going to do to avoid it? Are you going to actually start to eat like a real person? Maybe stop trying to kill yourself like this?” There was still heat behind Steven’s words, but the questions were genuine however how hostilely delivered. He couldn’t see another way for this issue to cease to exist. Shane starving himself was the problem so it stood to reason that the solution was for Shane to stop doing that. To his disgust, he was met only with silence. 

“I can’t believe you, man.” He bit out, oblivious to the tears hitting the kitchen tile near Shane’s feet. “I know this is some kind of illness, but I also know you’ve gotta put in work to get better. You have to want to and right now, I’m not seeing that you do.” 

Shane was silent, having nothing to say in his own defense. He didn’t have an illness, he was just selfish and full of himself. He wanted to do better, wanted to stop hurting the man he loved more than anything, but he couldn’t just stop on a dime. He’d worked so hard for so long, he couldn’t just make it be all for nothing this close to the finish line. That made him the most selfish bastard on the planet and Steven was right. Nothing was going to change until he wanted to change it and he wasn’t going to change it until he’d reached his goal weight. He hated that apparently that was more important to himself than not hurting his husband. He wished the floor would just swallow him whole. 

“Please dont still be in my apartment when I get up in the morning,” Shane requested quietly, head low, and left the kitchen, keeping his distance from the other man. He made his way to the bedroom and shut the door before laying down on the bed and wrapping himself around Obi. At least the cat was always here to offer him comfort when he was hit with hard truths. 

He had known that his bullshit did hurt Ryan by proxy. He hadn’t known it hurt him to the extent that he would call someone else and break down crying because of it. He really was the worst narcissist in the world and yet he’d somehow convinced Ryan to be married to him. This was why he’d never had a long relationship before Ryan. Besides the fact that he was really off putting and didn’t have much to offer in any department, he was a lot to handle and hard to form attachments with. 

Until he’d started working at Buzzfeed, he hadn’t had very many relationships at all and then only one before Ryan. He hadn’t been with those people long enough for his food thing to become an issue in the relationship, his partners getting out long before they even found out about it. Ryan hadn’t jumped ship though and Shane’s head still couldn’t wrap around the idea that the other man didn’t mind sharing this problem between them. Having somebody actually know about it, let alone be so effected by it as to be scared and upset over it, was entirely new territory for Shane. He was surprised it had taken so long after Ryan found out for it all to blow up on them, but then he guessed he’d been doing “better” during that time. 

He was quite aware he was on the lowest calorie limit he’d ever attempted right now, knew the physical effects he dealt with every day were due to that, but also? He was so close to his goal weight he could taste it. He only needed to lose less than ten more pounds and he could quit. He’d just need to maintain after that point. He wouldn’t hurt Ryan anymore, he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore, everything would be good when he finally hit the goal weight he’d sought after for the last twenty years. Life was supposed to look up once the ultimate goal weight was hit and he was really really hoping it would. He didn’t know why Ryan stayed with him but he wasn’t trying to actively drive him off. He could be a better husband if he would hit his goal weight and get back to being a normal person, though he wasn’t sure he remembered what having a normal relationship with food was like anymore. The most positive association he’d had with food in two decades had been the hotdoga, honestly. 

If he kept going like he was now, he’d be there by the end of the week. He had to be. He knew he’d fucked up a lot today but maybe he’d still lose by morning and keep progressing as he had been. By the end of the week, he could finally be finished living like this, could finally start being someone worthy of Ryan’s love, worthy of taking up space. 

This plan cemented in his mind, Shane resolutely ignored the voice in the back of his mind that was trying to sow doubt on his logic. Life _would_ get better once he hit that sought after number on the scale. It would. It didn’t matter that all of the accounts he’d read of people hitting their goal weights pointed to the opposite, he _needed_ this to be true. 

Shane fell asleep, curled around Obi’s safe form, the tears drying on his face. In the morning, he would realize he’d forgotten his tea in his emotional escape from the kitchen, and feel guilty for being unable to do even this one small thing that Ryan had asked of him. 

In Montana, twenty hours away, Ryan was up to his ears in research. This isn’t an unusual occurrence, most of his career was spent researching something or another, but this is a personal research mission. He’d spent the last couple years learning eating disorder information on and off, entirely dependent upon Shane’s recovery and relapse periods, so he knew the basics already but now he had a different thread to research. Shane’s gotten progressively worse and Ryan is terrified, frankly, that it’s actually going to kill him. Right now, where in the past he’d researched techniques on how to stealthily help your loved one up their intake and how to talk them down when their self loathing gets to be too strong, he was researching things like “eating disorder clinic treatment plans” and “how to safely build up calories quickly” in an attempt to DIY a recovery plan. The physical part was the most immediate concern, but Ryan knew ultimately this was a mental illness and that aspect would need to be addressed too to avoid this from happening again. One step at a time, though. You can’t focus on mental issues if you’re already dead. 

Shane couldn’t go to a hospital, like he probably really should, because 1)there was a pandemic on that makes hospitals risky even if the virus floor is contained away from the floor Shane would likely be put on and 2) their health insurance didn’t cover enough treatment time and they weren’t exactly making a lot of money even combining their salaries. If they tried hospital, Shane would have maybe two weeks of treatment before they would kick him out without a stable foundation to finish recovery at home. Plus, Ryan wouldn’t be able to be with him and he’d had enough of forced separation for a lifetime right now, thank you very much. So the natural alternative was to try and tackle it at home by themselves as best as they could. Ryan wasn’t an expert, would never claim to be, but he liked to think he was a quick study and could adapt things to fit Shane’s needs enough to actually be helpful. He knew now that each eating disorder treatment plan was unique to the individual being treated, based upon nutritional needs, and sometimes even took into account the patient’s comfort with certain types of food within reason.

All of the resources he’d read so far suggested that meal planning was important both nutritionally and to establish a healthier relationship with food, so he’d marked down the steps to create that with Shane. The idea was to find a good amount of foods within each food group that he liked to eat and then craft meals around that, planning out what to eat and when so that it was still controlled and hopefully less anxiety inducing. He thought that sounded helpful, he didn’t know for sure if control in general was a big part of Shane’s ED but he knew he liked to be in control of the food itself. He’d also read about keeping a food journal to record thoughts and feelings regarding meals and things, it sounded like something Shane wouldn’t like honestly, but then again Shane religiously logged his food in his app on his phone so Ryan added it to the list he’d started. He added it to the Maybe column and the meal plan was added under the Yes column, mostly because it sounded like it was a staple of most treatment programs to him. 

For the last three months, Ryan had been toying around with the idea of something like this, back when it was just a suspicion that Shane was getting deeper into his illness, but nothing to this extent. He hadn’t known just how badly it really was. He felt stupid for not really realizing it. He saw Shane’s face every single day, at least twice a day, and he’d noticed him getting thinner and thinner as time wore on but still he hadn’t caught on to the true severity of it. He tried to reason with himself that he didn’t notice precisely because he saw him so much, knowing it was a gradual change even if it was fast, as opposed to someone not seeing him for awhile and having the immediate contrast of how he’d looked before. Ryan felt a sting in his chest as that thought led him to think of Shane’s parents and what they would say if they could see how ill Shane looked, how ill Shane _was_ , right now. The two of them hadn’t seen them since Christmas, so more than half a year now. He wasn’t sure they would recognize their son right now, honestly. He knew Shane hadn’t really talked to them since the lockdowns started, probably hadn’t talked to many people outside of him really. He was a reserved kind of guy even when his mental illnesses weren’t causing him to isolate himself from his friends and family. The quarantine made it worse, obviously, but Shane normally could easily go weeks without so much as texting other people. 

Ryan was surprised Shane’s parents hadn’t reached out to him yet, he had kind of expected they would check to see how the two of them were doing in light of the global health crisis if for no other reason. Shane loved his family, but he wasn’t exactly all that close with them. He never went back home unless it was Christmas, spending other big holidays like Thanksgiving with Ryan’s family, but usually they’d talk on the phone every couple of months at least. Right now, Ryan thought their support would be helpful in the recovery process. He would kill and die for his husband but Shane needed all the people rooting for him that he could get. It couldn’t just be Ryan. 

But on the other hand, Shane had told him that his mother was the catalyst for all of his issues with his body. She was the one who always pointed out his size when he was young, she was the one who had badgered him to started losing weight when he was only just starting high school. Maybe her presence would not be good in this situation. Some petty, vindictive part of Ryan wanted her to see what she and her callous remarks had done to her son, to see the lasting impact they had had on him. She’d never said anything out of the way in Ryan’s presence yet, no snide remarks on Shane’s body or even just his appearance in general, and it was best for her wellbeing that it stayed that way. 

At least they had Steven on their side, if nobody else yet. Ryan hadn’t had time to explain the full situation, partly because he was too upset and partly because it felt like it wasn’t his place to divulge such private information about someone else, but Steven knew the basics of what was going on right now. He had agreed to try and keep Shane’s body from shutting down, at least, just until Ryan could get home. Ryan was taking that as a definite sign of support. 

That was another thing he was working on, he had the rental car company website up in one of his other tabs, but it seemed like nobody was renting out right now. That was one of the biggest reasons he’d been stuck in Montana for the past five months. The borders had been closed initially, marking interstate travel next to impossible if it was nonessential. It was still recommended to be like that, but the states had begun opening up in May. It was safest to keep restricting things like travel, but it wasn’t being enforced so much right now. The rental car company was apparently sticking by it though. The site said, in no uncertain terms, that their cars could not be taken across Montana state lines and would be reported as stolen if they were. That certainly complicated his mission to get to LA, but he would figure something out. He had to. 

He’d packed his things hours ago, sometime between the chaos of Shane’s call from the bathroom floor and his emotional outpouring on the call with Steven, so the car was the only thing standing between him and leaving now. He’d texted members of the crew he’d brought with him, asking if anyone had any friends living within the state that could loan him a car, and he was just waiting on their replies. He hadn’t considered that it would be kind of a dick move to leave them trapped in this midwestern wasteland longer, but his brain was focused on Shane and Shane only right now. If one of them could secure him a car, he could offer to drive them back with him, but it certainly wasn’t a priority. They could wait, Shane couldn’t. 

Ryan’s list of priorities right now basically went like this: get a car, get home, help Shane. Unfortunately though, everything was dependent upon each other so it had to be accomplished in that exact order. Nothing else mattered at this second beyond achieving those things. 

As he read through site after site detailing clinical as well as personal techniques for helping someone you love recover from their eating disorder, Ryan absentmindedly twisted his wedding band around his finger. The weight of the small ring always brought him comfort, a physical reminder of Shane and their shared love, even when they weren’t in the same place. The metal was thick enough that the engraving was deeply etched into the underside and if he concentrated, he could feel each individual letter of their names when he ran his finger tip across it. Sometimes he would try to make them out by touch as a technique to calm himself down when he was anxious and it worked really well as a distraction technique. Shane had told him it was corny to get them engraved when he’d brought up the idea, but he was always grateful that they’d decided to.

_“I understand our wedding day, but both of our names too? Come on, Ry!” Shane had laughed, leaning across the back of the couch to see Ryan’s laptop screen where he had the jeweler’s site pulled up and a simulator to show what the engraving would maybe look like. He’d been on it for hours, trying out several different ideas, but he really liked this one. Ryan + Shane, followed by their upcoming wedding day, and a tiny heart to separate the two things wound perfectly around the circumference of the ring. Ryan thought it was a sign that it was meant to be like that, personally. In the end, the engraving would be slightly altered for Ryan’s version of the ring, reading Shane + Ryan instead of the other way around, symbolic that they would always put the other person before themselves._

_“It fits perfect, dude! Look! Just our initials made it look like we didn’t care enough and then I tried our last names but that didn’t feel personal enough, you know?” Ryan had defended and Shane rolled his eyes but Ryan could easily see the fond smile on his face, even from this close to it. His fiancé’s head was literally on his shoulder, balancing precariously on the edge of it, but he didn’t mind at all._

_“What if the weight of the engraver snaps the ring in two because it’s so much?” Shane had asked, laughing, and Ryan knew he was just making up reasons to say no because he didn’t want to admit that he loved the idea too._

_“We aren’t even doing the full spelled out date, just the version with slashes in between, so it’s shorter!” Ryan countered, making sure he made his voice take on just a hint of pleading, and moved slightly so that Shane had to look at him properly. He turned the puppy dog eyes on him and could almost pinpoint the exact second Shane actually caved. “Come on, Shane, I really want this,” He added, just for good measure._

_“I guess you’re right,” Shane conceded, and Ryan grinned before kissing him quickly on the cheek. “It is cuter that way. Are you set on that font though?”_

_Shane came around to sit properly on the couch next to Ryan, wanting to get a better look at the screen now that he was more involved in the process._

_“No, that’s just the default one the site loads when you enter any text. I was thinking maybe this one?” Ryan said, clicking on one of the prettier cursive-y options. It was similar to the one they’d used for the wedding invitations, so he knew Shane would probably like it. He was a big fan of important things being done in fancy lettering, he’d said that it made everything feel like it should be remembered._

_“That one’s perfect, babe!” Shane smiled as soon as the script had changed on the image. “You’re such a genius, you should be a jewelry designer professionally.”_

_“Oh, but what would the poor people who rely on us for historical case information do without me?” Ryan sighed dramatically, though he blushed under the compliment nonetheless._

_“Maybe it can be your side gig, huh? Bring us in some extra money so we can roll in the dough?” Shane kept up the bit, very seriously proposing this venture, and Ryan couldn’t hold back his laughter. Seconds later, Shane joined him._

_“Married life means living the high life, baby!” Shane exclaimed, smiling widely, and Ryan leaned over to rest her head against his chest._

_“It is the high life because it’ll be with you,” He said and Shane pressed a kiss to the top of his head._

_“You’re what makes it the best, babe,” Shane admitted quietly, grabbing Ryan’s hand to entwine with his own._

Ryan is pulled out of his musings by his phone cheerfully chirping beside the notebook with his list and he had never been happier to receive a text from one of the crew. A truck was on its way to the Airbnb, permission to take it all the way to California courtesy of some old college roommate, and Ryan would be on his way home within the hour. He couldn’t do any more real research within that time period, he decided, and packed up his laptop and the notebook, readying both for the long trip ahead. “Within the hour” could mean ten minutes from now or forty five minutes from now so he needed to be entirely ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He didn’t have time to waste. 

He did, however, have time to _wait_. He scrolled absently through his phone, switching from the same three apps and back again in an attempt to distract himself long enough for time to pass by faster, before he ended up in his photos. Most of them were photos of he and Shane together and his heart ached at the instant contrast between their most recent picture together and the man he’d had dinner with earlier. At some point in their call, he’d taken a screenshot and now he switched between that photo and their last selfie, noting all the changes he really should’ve seen sooner. 

The Shane he had seen today looked like his skin was simply stretched across his skeleton, barely able to keep the bones in, like his jawline was begging to break the skin to cut anyone who dared to get close enough. The dark circles under his eyes could be mistaken for bruises, smudged even across his eyelids, like he hadn’t gotten a decent night of sleep in years. Shane was normally a pale person, skin only darkening slightly if he stayed in the Cali sun for hours on end several days in a row, but now it seemed absolutely devoid of any pigment, whiter than the artificially bright white of paper. His dark hair, normally so soft and fluffy and hard to manage, lay limply against his skull, thinning and lifeless. Ryan knew it had to be falling out by now from the lack of nutrients. Peeking out from the oversized hoodie he wore, he could just make out the sharp outline of his collarbones. All of that was terrifying, a testament to the havoc Shane’s mind must be right now, but Ryan thought the worst part was his eyes. Shane had always had such expressive eyes, one could tell what he was feeling just by glancing at the them, but today there was nothing behind them. They were devoid of any expression of emotion, despite Shane’s face going through the motions, and that was scarier than anything. 

Ryan swiped back to their most recent picture together, a selfie taken on a walk they’d taken because it was nice out and they didn’t have any pressing responsibilities for once, and longed instantly for time to be rewound. The Shane in this photo his laughing, crinkled eyes shining with mirth and happiness. He fitted v neck hugs his body nicely, and Ryan remembers how daring Shane had felt that day to wear something that drew attention to his body, and how proud he himself had been of him for that step. Shane had been a slim person as long as Ryan had known him, he’d always privately chalked it up to being so tall before he’d been told about the weight control methods, so here too you could see Shane’s collarbones well defined, but not worryingly so. He was happy, his skin glowing from the time spent in the sun, hair being tousled by the gentle breeze that had blown that day, offering them a slight reprieve from the heat. He looked healthy, positively radiant, and Ryan wanted so desperately to get him back to that point. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. Shane was really deep in the clutches of his illness, what had happened today was a testament to that fact. Steven had told him about the blood coming from Shane’s mouth when he’d found him and Ryan’s mind had instantly flashed with fears of internal bleeding somewhere. Judging by Shane’s voice though, he thought it was probably just that something tore in his throat instead. That was still not good, because it was damage Shane had done himself, but anything was so much more preferable over internal damage. 

Ryan again debated the possibility of taking Shane to the hospital, if only to see what they could do about helping him physically, because honestly there was no telling how much damage was actually done to his organs and such. Shane had been doing this stuff to his body for so long, Ryan was kind of surprised that he hadn’t run into any health affects that lasted even into the times when he was in his small recovery periods. He was also very surprised he still had any sort of immune system left. 

Ryan had spent hours reading over the many health complications that can arise as a result of anorexia, some of them fatal, and he just wanted to make sure Shane’s body wasn’t about to just cease functioning at any moment. He decided that he would bring up maybe going to the hospital after he figured out if he and Shane were going to be able to fight this themselves or not. He wanted to avoid it if possible, but he wasn’t going to risk Shane’s health by outright deciding against it just because he didn’t want to be apart from him again. 

Headlights fell across the table in front of him, shining in from the window as the truck pulled up. He quickly picked up his bags and headed for the door, stopping slightly as he remembered to pull his fabric mask out of his bag and put it on. As he walked, he made double sure his phone and wallet were in his pocket. Outside, he was met with the three members of the crew who’d traveled with him, each holding their own bags, and he realized somewhere someone hadn’t even asked him if they could ride back with him. Belatedly he realized they shouldn’t have to, it would be common sense if he could focus on the bigger picture instead of narrowing in only on his husband. 

Devon, apparently the one who’s college roommate this was, took the keys from the driver and handed her bags off to TJ, who took the bags to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate before throwing them in. Katie gently grabbed Ryan’s clothes bag from his hand when he failed to spring into action and followed suit. Ryan, surprised that this was not going to be the solo mission he’d envisioned, climbed into the back of the truck. He would’ve preferred driving, wanting to get back as fast as possible, but it seemed Devon had already claimed that role. This was going to be a long drive, especially if he had the full twenty two hours with nothing to distract him from thoughts of his husband and all the ways this current crisis of his could end so horribly for them both. As the truck pulled out, Ryan put in his headphones and leaned his head against the window, hoping his companions wouldn’t try to talk to him too much. He had a lot on his mind.


	3. mere monstrosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics courtesy again of Hozier, “Moment’s Silence”  
>  Summer classes are slowly ruining my life as I don’t have a lot of time to write because of them, but this is just a little flashback sort of thing, sorry it’s not as long as usual  
> Its set when Shane’s about 27, so a while before he ever met Ryan or anything, and I couldn’t find a way to shoehorn it in to the current timeline so it’s posted here as it’s own chapter. The next chapter is being written, slowly, but it’ll have a lot of flashbacks in it also and mostly be from Ryan’s perspective!   
> Thank you to everyone who’s read and continues to read this fic!!  
> Also disclaimer: I’ve never talked to a doctor about this sort of thing so idk how a medical professional would realistically respond

_Shane looked around, finding himself in a place only familiar to him from scenes in films. He was standing on a large, empty rooftop. It was night time, the sky above him showing soft pricks of light, stars that were almost overpowered by the busy city full of lights below. From here, there was no telling what city he was in. It could be Los Angeles, it could be Chicago, it probably didn’t really matter. Shane briefly wondered if he was here to throw himself over the side._

_His eyes adjusting to the darkness, Shane realized he wasn’t actually alone up here. There’s a woman coming towards him from the left. He watched as she came closer, stopping a few feet from him. There was a beat of silence where Shane contemplated turning around to leave before the woman spoke._

_“Do you know why you’re here?” She asked, sounding almost bored, like that wasn’t the most cryptic way to begin a conversation._

_“Like in general or just here specifically?” Shane asked in return, arching an eyebrow. A thin smile graced the woman’s lips._

_“Here, specifically, Mr. Madej,” She said. Anyone using his formal name couldn’t lead to anything good, Shane decided. “But we can also discuss why you’re here in general, if you’d like.”_

_“Well, considering I don’t know the answer to either one, I’ll let you pick the topic of conversation, if that’s okay.” Shane admitted. In his twenty five years of life, he didn’t think he had a conversation where he didn’t really know the point of it so thoroughly as this one. Yeah, it was probably best to let the stranger lead._

_“You don’t know why you’re alive? Is that what you define as in general?” She asked. Shane wondered if she knew what a loaded question that was._

_“Does anyone?” He countered to avoid it._

_“I’d say yes, most people know their purpose in life,” She said after a brief moment of thought._

_“Well, good for them but that’s not my case.” Shane’s voice was taking on a slightly bitter current and he regretted letting her choose the line of conversation. He didn’t like this one, he didn’t want to be having an existential crisis right now in front of this woman he’d just met._

_“People who are religious often ascribe their placement in life as being whatever reason they think their God wanted them to be here for,” She offered, maybe trying to offer a sort of comfort with the suggestion, but it didn’t have the intended effect on Shane._

_“I’m not religious, so,” He said, dismissive and maybe coming off like an asshole, but he wanted this to end._

_“Some people are content with not knowing their exact purpose. Sometimes thinking their life is worth being alive to live it is enough for them,” She said pointedly, then: “Do you think your life is worth living?”_

_Shane sighed and tried to take stock of what had led him here. No, he didn’t think his life was worth living. He was three years out of college, working a job he hated but at least put his degree to use, living as far away from his family as he could get, without any real friends or any real meaningful relationships with anyone he knew. His main hobby was exercising and he’d only picked that up because a forum of teenage girls had convinced him running burned the most calories in the fastest amount of time. Instead of being out with friends or something that normal people his age did in their free time, he cataloged over and over how much he hated his body and his personality and sometimes whether it would just be easier to end his existence. No, he didn’t think his life was worth living. That was too much to lay on this woman, though._

_“Not really,” He answered simply, tried to sound offhand, like he hadn’t just admitted he didn’t care for his own presence on this earth. The woman didn’t judge him, just nodded and fixed him with a long look that felt calculating._

_“What could you change about it that would make it worth more to you?” She asked._

_“I’ve been trying to change my body, mostly.” He said, not really knowing what compelled him to. He should’ve said something about switching jobs or trying harder to socialize or something, but no, he’d gone straight to the truth of his eternal struggle in life for whatever reason. Maybe some small part of him was hoping she could help._

_“Is that why you came in today?” She asked and suddenly the darkness of the rooftop lightened to the white sterile walls of the clinic and Shane’s attempt at trying to pretend he wasn’t here was shattered. He fucking hated doctor’s offices, clinics, and hospitals. The whiteness of everything felt cold and unfeeling, the fakeness of the medical professionals felt forced and gave him the impression they could care less about the ailments of the people who came to see them. He kind of wished he’d just turned back around when he’d pulled into the parking lot but no, he’d gone in and now here he was._

_“I wanted to ask if you had any tips for healthy weight loss?” Shane asked. He had driven here with the intention to ask for help with his food issues, yes, but it had been to stop with the dieting. He still wanted to lose weight, his body was still way too disgusting for him to even contemplate stopping that endeavor, but the low calories he’d been following left him feeling exhausted all the time and he was thinking maybe it had an effect on his daily emotional state? He didn’t know, he just wanted to stop feeling like shit all the time. Somewhere between his apartment outside of Los Angeles and this small clinic in Inglewood, he had changed his mind though, convincing himself that talking to a doctor was only going to be a mistake._

_“Mr. Madej, according to your chart, your weight is perfectly healthy for your height, if a little bit on the lower end of that range. You don’t need to be losing any,“ The doctor explained, glancing at a folder on the counter beside her. He reminded himself that the BMI chart was bullshit because if it wasn’t, he would look as “healthy” as it said he should at this weight instead of the whale he was. She turned her gaze back to Shane and he felt like she saw right through his lie._

_“Look,” Shane started, mind made up that he would try again to get something helpful out of this trip. “I’ve been eating 600 calories for the last four months. I came here to ask you to help me lose weight without doing that. If you can’t, that’s fine and I’ll go home but I really wanted to try and approach this the healthier way.”_

_“You’ve only been eating 600 calories,” She repeated, sounding vaguely astounded. “That’s even less than the amount of calories required for a two year old to live every day, did you know that?”_

_Shane clenched his jaw, trying not to sigh in frustration. Yes, he’d known that. Was that helpful information relevant to his question? No. It was an attempt at her trying to tell him he was being an idiot and starving his body or some equally preachy obvious observation. He hadn’t come here for a lecture._

_“Yeah, doc, whatever. Can you please answer my question?” He asked, irritation creeping into his voice despite him wishing it wouldn’t show through._

_“For women, we usually recommend twice that as the absolute lowest calorie limit to lose weight. For men, we recommend around 1600. I want to remind you again that you weigh on the lower end of healthy right now and will soon be in the underweight range if you lose any more weight, which I cannot medically advise you to do.”_

_Shane balked at the high numbers. He hadn’t eaten over the 1,000 calorie mark in maybe a year and even then, it had only been around 1,200 for a friend’s wedding where he’d told himself it was fine because it was a special occasion. It had, in fact, turned out not to be fine, as he found out the next morning when the scale had told him he’d gained three pounds, and he hadn’t tempted the weight loss fates since. Neither of the limits the doctor mentioned would ever help him lose anything and he would never get to his goal if he listened to her._

_“Yeah, I’ll consider that,” He lied and he could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe him for a second._

_“How long have you had issues with your weight?” She asked, voice going softer than it had been since the conversation began and Shane imagined he could hear a hint of pity there._

_“I’ve been trying to lose weight since I was about fifteen,” He admitted quietly and she frowned. “My mother felt the need to remind me daily that I wasn’t fit to go out in public because I was so big and disgusting so I’ve been working on it ever since.”_

_“Do you still live with your mother, Shane?” The doctor asked softly and it was jarring to hear her say his first name instead._

_“No, no, she’s back in Illinois. I moved out here when I was twenty one.” Shane hadn’t realized until now how ridiculous it sounded that he was still desperately trying to please his mother even though she was pretty much halfway across the country and didn’t see him very much anymore._

_“Why do you keep trying to fit the standards she set for you? I don’t know how much you weighed back then, but you certainly aren’t anywhere close to overweight now. There’s something wrong on her end if she can’t see that,” The doctor said and Shane couldn’t believe that she was straight up lying to his face like this. He knew he looked like shit, knew it in the way his thighs rubbed together and squashed out like sea otters when he sat down, knew it in the way his stomach stuck out over the band of his jeans, and this lady was here trying to say his mother had been wrong in her assessment of him?_

_“I can clearly see that that’s bullshit, okay?” Shane said, looking pointedly down at his body. “Frankly, I’m surprised I don’t break furniture when I sit on it. I look in the mirror everyday trying to see something change and it just doesn’t happen, alright? The scale claims that my weight is going down day by day but aside from having to poke one measly hole in my belt a couple weeks ago, I haven’t been able to see any so-called progress. I’m fat and I’m always going to be unless I can get down to my goal weight like I’ve been trying to do for ten fucking years!” Shane hadn’t meant to yell but he’d just gotten more and more frustrated as he verbalized what he’d been thinking for months. He was doing everything to get skinnier and he hadn’t seen any evidence of that hard work on his body. Not one shred._

_Across from him, seemingly unaffected by his rise in volume, the doctor was looking at him calculatingly again._

_“As a physician and as a caring person, I’m going to advise you to discontinue the harsh restriction of calories. If the body doesn’t get enough fuel and nutrients, it begins to stop working. There are countless medical conditions that can develop as a result of an eating disorder, many of them fatal. Your liver could fail or you could go into cardiac arrest,” She rattled off and Shane stopped her._

_“I didn’t come here to be told this stuff, alright? I know the risks, I’ve read them and reread them many times when I was looking for weight loss tips. I very much do not have an eating disorder, I’m just an asshole trying to achieve a goal, and I can stop that pursuit any time I want.” He said and she cocked an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “I’m not going to right now, but I could.”_

_“Many people say that and guess what? It usually doesn’t happen that way,” She countered._

_“Maybe it will for me.” Shane said stubbornly. He had worked too long doing this shit. He didn’t want to keep it up after he’d hit his goal, he wanted to be able to eat just enough to maintain so he could stay exactly at his goal weight for the rest of his life, honestly._

_The doctor seemed to see this was a losing battle. She had done her medical duty of attempting to diagnose her patient and she had tried to warn him of the very real risks that would occur if he continued his unhealthy behavior. There wasn’t much else she could do. He didn’t weigh so lowly that it was an immediate health concern requiring hospitalization so legally, she couldn’t keep him under medical care against his will or anything. He was going to simply walk out of this clinic and keep on with his ways and there wasn’t anything she could do about it._

_”Maybe you’ll die.” She said, sadness coloring the words. There was no judgement in the tone, this wasn’t an accusation. It was simply a statement of fact, a probable what-if outcome, a reminder of something to be aware of. Something Shane should probably see coming in his future._

_“Yeah,” He said, exhaling a breath, voice now flat but eyes full of resignation. “Maybe I’ll die.”_

_Shane had walked out the door, leaving the doctor standing in the exam room, and left the clinic. He hadn’t looked back._


	4. an art to life’s distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Hozier’s “Someone New”
> 
> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, school really do be consuming my brain juice everyday lmao 
> 
> The park with the flowers mentioned in this chapter is based on somewhere in France, I’m almost 100% the US doesn’t actually have anywhere similar (and also I’ve never been to LA so idk anything) but writing is all about creative liberties right
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! I appreciate every single one of y’all

The crew, blessedly, doesn’t bother Ryan for a few hours. Through the music blasting in his earphones, he can vaguely hear them talking excitedly about finally going home after being stuck in Montana for so long, each of them talking about the people they live with whom they’ve missed so much during this time apart. He wished he could share in their carefree happiness, wished he could just be excited to reunite with Shane the same way they were excited to reunite with their loved ones. But he couldn’t. His excitement was undercut by worry and fear for his husband’s health, by uncertainty for what they were going to do going forward. 

Ryan wanted to distract himself from the crisis at hand, he wasn’t going to be doing anyone any good if all he did was worry himself sick until he could see for himself what’s going on with Shane. His music wasn’t helping, he was too used to it for it to be anything but background noise unless he forced himself to think about every individual lyric as it played, and he always somehow ended back on his photos when he tried to use his phone as a distraction, which naturally just brought him back to Scared for Shane Mode. Distractions were in short supply here. The only things he could find outside of his own technology were either the people in the truck with him, which he didn’t really think he could pretend to hold a normal conversation with right now, or to just stare out into the blackness of the landscape as they drove through it. He’d already tried to kind of take stock of his immediate surroundings, already memorized the stitching of the leather seats of the truck and the pattern of the plastic around the door and the little air vents facing the middle seat, so that wasn’t a good distraction anymore. Usually he would just text Shane to help him not focus so much on whatever was making him anxious, but it was nearly 11 PM and he really hoped his husband was asleep right now. God knows that man needed all the rest his body could get. Ryan knew he was probably pretty weak with how little he’d been eating and likely didn’t have very much energy anymore. Ryan wouldn’t interrupt his sleep for anything in the world right now, let alone just because he was anxious about Shane in general. 

Unbidden, memories of their relationship throughout the years decided to make their way to the front of his mind. Ryan knew he could probably stop thinking about these moments from the past if he really tried, but it meant he got to relive times when they were both happy, when they were both _healthy_ , and honestly he’d give anything to see Shane healthy right now, even if it was just through his own memories. In reality, it was going to be a long time before Shane was going to regain his health but for now, Ryan was going to be grateful that his brain wanted to remind him that things haven’t always been this bad, to remind him that they weren’t always going to _be_ this bad. 

The first memory he was blessed to remember was their first date, special even though it was something they’d done dozens of times before they’d even gotten together. 

_“When are you going to buy some new movies man? You know you’re the only person I know who still uses a DVD player?” Ryan complained, laughing as he flipped through the collection he’d been through every single time they did one of these movie nights at Shane’s apartment. He knew these DVDs were all at least five years old, many older, but Shane loved going to pawn shops to pick up “new” ones. When asked, Shane had told Ryan that Netflix always pulled all the best movies or just never had them on the platform to start with while with DVDs, he had those on hand and at his disposable without having to deep dive on the Internet looking for a copy to stream._

_“All of these are masterpieces, genuinely the best examples of film available today, and you mock them?” Shane asked, affecting a very serious and offended tone, as he walked back into the living room. He’d been in the kitchen using the popcorn maker, leaving Ryan to pick the movie._

_They’d been officially dating for about two weeks now, but this was their first “official” date. Honestly, it was pretty much the same thing they’d been doing for years, the Friday night movie marathon was usually a biweekly tradition, but there was a small difference this time. Despite literally only going to Shane’s apartment, both had dressed up nicely like they would for actually going out. Ryan was wearing a nice navy button up, complete with the short sleeves rolled up, and dark skinny jeans. He’d even restyled his hair where it had lost its shape throughout the workday._

_Shane, not to be outdone, had gone with some classic layers. The brown leather jacket that Ryan loved on him paired nicely with his gray v neck and his light washed jeans. His hair was a little long then, almost touching his shoulders again, and there was really no working with it at that length. The best he could manage to do to it was make sure it was fluffy from brushing and vaguely going in the correct direction. Ryan loved the look anyway._

_“No offense, babe, but we’ve watched all of these at least five times each.” Ryan pointed out even as he laid out three of the movies on the coffee table. He’d picked the movies, but Shane was picking the order they would watch them in. Relationships were all about compromise, after all._

_“Well, if someone would just agree to go with me, I could get us some new ones from the pawn shop,” Shane said, pointedly, as he sat down next to his boyfriend on the couch and handed him the bowl of popcorn so he could turn his attention to their selection for this evening._

_“Pawn shops are shady places! The kind of people that hang out in pawn shops look like they belong in a back alley wearing a trench coat. Do you think we should be around people that look like they would mug us?” Ryan defended his constant refusal to even entertain the idea of pawn shopping with Shane. The people were one issue, the filthiness of the merchandise from who knows where was another. All around, pawn shops were not high on the list of places Ryan was willing to venture into, not even for Shane._

_“I’m literally one of those people who spend time and money in pawn shops, Ry, do you think I look like that?” Shane asked, opening the first movie’s case. It was one of the ones Ryan liked more than he personally did, but he’d suffer through it again because it meant he got to see Ryan’s eyes light up with delight when it started playing. They’d watched these movies so many times they’d even memorized the trailers that played before the title screen came up but they watched them again and again and loved every minute of it. The movies weren’t what made their movie nights so beloved anyways, it was just the simplicity of spending time together._

_“No,” Ryan admitted, laughing a little at trying to imagine Shane looking all shady in a back alley somewhere. “But that doesn’t count, you’re you and frankly I don’t think you could look even vaguely threatening if you tried.”_

_“Hey!” Shane scoffed, indignant, as he came back from the DVD player to settle himself down on the couch. Ryan handed him the bowl back so he could stretch out and lay his head on Shane’s thighs. That was another difference from their usual movie nights, now they got to do cute comfy positions like this. “I’ll have you know that I can be very threatening!”_

_“The most scary thing about you is your height and even then you don’t use it in a very scary way so the effect just isn’t there.” Ryan explained, turning his attention from Shane’s face to the tv screen where the previews were starting. “Just face it, baby, you’re not a threatening figure in the least.”_

_“Okay,” Shane acquiesced. “The real question here is if I’m just menacing enough for you to believe I can protect us from any of the shady redneck looking guys who frequent the pawn shop?”_

_Ryan pretended to think it over for a minute, Shane, grinning, watching him make a big show out of weighing the pros and cons in his head._

_“I guess maybe you could scare off like one single shady man at the pawn shop,” Ryan decided and Shane laughed._

_“Oh boy, I’m sure glad I can keep us safe from a singular man!”_

_“Look, since I love you very much, I will go to one pawn shop with you so we can pick out new DVDs together.” Ryan promised, the title screen finally coming on the screen so he could hit play on the remote. He could hear the grin on Shane’s face as he answered the statement._

_“We’re going in the morning! Oh this is gonna be such a blast, baby!” Shane exclaimed, excitedly, and Ryan smiled. His boyfriend was such a dork, but he was his dork so it was okay._

_Both of them focused on the movie playing before them, occasionally breaking the silence with a complaint about the plot from Shane or a comment on the cinematography from Ryan, and the evening continued on in that way until they’d watched the last movie around 2 am. At some point, Ryan had gone to put the popcorn bowl, now empty, in the sink to wash in the morning and Shane had been stretched out, taking up the entire length of the couch, when he’d come back into the room. Ryan, definitely not willing to spend date night on the floor, had simply laid down in the little space between Shane and the edge of the couch. Shane had instantly wrapped one arm securely around Ryan’s chest, keeping him close, and Ryan smiled fondly into the dim light coming from the television screen. They’d ended up falling asleep like that and neither minded that they each felt like they’d been hit by a truck when they woke up stiff and sore the next morning._

_It was the best first date either of them had experienced._

____

Ryan was pulled out of the memory by a hand tugging on his shirt. 

“What?” He asked, noticing that the truck had stopped moving and all three of his friends were looking at him. 

“Are you okay? We’ve been trying to get your attention for like five minutes, dude,” Devon said and okay, Ryan knew he had been spacing out but he didn’t think he’d been that spaced out. 

“Yeah, just lost in my thoughts I guess,” Ryan explained, sheepishly. “What’s up?” 

“We’re at a rest stop right now and I was gonna get some snacks from the vending machine. Do you want anything specific?” TJ asked and Ryan shook his head. 

“Nah, thanks for asking me though.” 

TJ shrugged before getting out of the truck, the girls following soon after, leaving Ryan to his own devices again. In their absence, Ryan debated pretending to sleep for the next leg of the trip, too wired to actually go to sleep, just so he wouldn’t worry the crew when he spaced out. According to the clock on the dash, they’d only been driving for two hours or so, meaning there was plenty of time still left that he needed to distract himself during. Remembering their first date had successfully pulled his focus from their current crisis and calmed him down a bit, but he was back in the present and still very aware of what they were facing right now. He waited until everyone was back in the truck, making sure to pay attention in case someone had something to say to him, before he pulled a hoodie out of his backpack and bunched it up to lay his head on. This way he’d look like he was asleep and hopefully be comfortable enough to actually fall asleep sometime tonight. For now, he tried his best to knock loose another memory.

__

_It was their first Christmas as a couple and they’d flown out to Illinois to spend the holiday with Shane’s family. They’d had Thanksgiving with Ryan’s parents because they lived closer, but Shane insisted that it was tradition for him to fly home for Christmas every year and there was no way Ryan wouldn’t be coming with him. Ryan was nervous, especially as they now stood in the snow outside of the Madej house, because he was about to meet his boyfriend’s parents (and extended family too) for the first time. That was a nerve wracking situation anyways, but now if it didn’t go well they couldn’t even leave because they were going to be sleeping here and they’d taken an Uber from the airport to here._

__

_“Do you think they’ll like me? Like am I good enough for their son to date?” Ryan asked, fidgeting with the cuffs on his winter coat, and Shane grabbed one of his hands to hold._

__

_“Ry, there’s no way anyone could look at you and not love you. If anything? I’m not good enough to be dating you, and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who dares say you aren’t good enough for me.” Shane’s voice was entirely sincere and Ryan almost missed the middle part of that statement. Almost._

__

_“Shane, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t you ever say you aren’t good enough to be my boyfriend or I’ll kick your ass.” Ryan threatened, momentarily forgetting his anxiety as they walked up the porch steps. Shane just smiled wryly at him, raising a fist to knock on the door._

__

_A moment later, Ryan’s nerves reignited as the door was pulled open to reveal Shane’s mother, made all the worse by the way Shane instantly tensed up beside him. His whole body seemed to stiffen, even as he stood up a bit straighter. His shoulders curled inwards, like he was trying to make himself as small as he could. Really, that should’ve been a red flag, but Ryan had brushed it off at the time. She was taller than he was, but not as tall as Shane, still somehow cutting an intimidating figure standing there in her sparkling red dress and white baking apron._

__

_“Oh you’re finally here!” She exclaimed, the cheerfulness in her tone not enough to keep Ryan from noticing how her eyes seemed to scan up and down their entire beings. Shane shifted his backpack, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and Ryan took the initiative to try and get them out of this interaction as quickly as possible. Letting go of Shane’s hand, ignoring how his own were shaking slightly, Ryan stepped forward and put his hand out._

__

_“Hi, I’m Ryan,” He said, trying to put on his most charming smile, and felt strangely relieved that the woman’s focus was now entirely on him and not on her son. It was ridiculous, but he just felt that something wasn’t right. His voice was coming out a little higher in his nervousness and Shane gave his hand a squeeze. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”_

__

_“Oh, Ryan, Shane’s told us all about you! We’re all so glad you could join us for family Christmas! Come in, come in, you boys shouldn’t be out in the cold for so long.” She said, ushering Ryan inside, and he knew Shane was right behind him. He was strangely glad that he was between Shane and Mrs. Madej, no matter how stupid that sounded. Shane’s mother hadn’t done anything to them, but she was giving off bad vibes and Ryan didn’t know what he could do about it except try and keep her attention off of Shane. There was something odd here that didn’t sit right with him._

__

_After stomping the snow from their boots and stripping off all of their winter gear, Shane and Ryan were led to the living room so Ryan could meet Shane’s father while his mother went back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen. Ryan didn’t miss the way Shane seemed to relax as soon as she wasn’t in their presence anymore._

__

_“Shane! Come here and give your old man a hug,” Shane’s father said, getting up from his armchair as soon as he saw them. Unlike his wife, he seemed genuinely cheerful and happy that they were there. After he’d hugged Shane, he surprisingly did the same to Ryan._

__

_“And you, Ryan, I just know you’re gonna fit right in to the family. We really are delighted to have you with us. You don’t know how happy you make my son,” He said, genuine sincerity in his tone, and Ryan could see Shane duck his head in embarrassment._

__

_“I hope to keep making him happy, sir,” Ryan stuttered out, kind of getting whiplash from the difference in welcomes they’d received from each parent. He decided that whatever was up with Shane’s mother was the exact opposite of the man she’d married. Shane’s dad only smiled warmly in response._

__

_“We’re gonna take our bags upstairs,” Shane said, after they’d engaged in some small talk about the trip down for a few minutes._

__

_“I’m sorry, boys! I got to talking and you both haven’t even had time to set down your bags. Go, go, we have all week to catch up,” Mr. Madej smiled and ushered them to go relieve themselves of the baggage, having seemingly forgotten about the luggage the two held until it was mentioned because he’d been so absorbed in speaking with them._

__

_Shane grabbed Ryan’s hand again as he led the way out of the room and up the stairs. Shane’s old bedroom, now a guest bedroom, was located at the very end of the hallway up here and Ryan took the opportunity to look at the various photographs lining the walls. He recognized Shane instantly, his eye shape and smile was so distinctive and unique compared to his siblings that he wasn’t hard to pick out in group shots of when they were little. He was even more recognizable as the shots got more recent, pretty much looking the same as he did now features wise._

__

_“Hey,” Ryan said, brows knitting together in confusion as he examined the wall of photos. So far, they’d been steadily increasing as the years wore on, with Ryan able to vaguely figure out how old Shane was in them, but now there seemed to be a big gap in the timeline._

__

_“Hey what?” Shane asked, turning around to see what had drawn his attention. Ryan gestured vaguely at the wall with his free hand. “Oh.”_

__

_“This picture shows you when you were like twelve but then the next one shows you very much older. Aren’t these in chronological order?”_

__

_Shane’s hand tightened around his as he sighed._

__

_“We don’t keep pictures up of me from the years when I was about fourteen through like age seventeen.” Shane explained quietly, almost like he was ashamed about it, and Ryan’s confusion only grew._

__

_“Why not?” He asked, because he can’t leave well enough alone, and Shane tugged on his hand so they could continue on their way, leaving the photos behind them._

__

_“We just don’t, okay?” Ryan only dropped the subject because of the pleading tone in Shane’s voice, but it stayed in the back of his mind, adding to the other oddness he’d felt since they’d arrived. They unpacked their clothes, putting them into the dresser even though they’d only be here for a few days, working in silence. Below them, they could hear Christmas music begin to play as it sounded like more people were showing up. When they made their way back downstairs, there were indeed many more people in the house._

__

_Ryan and Shane were swept up as more relatives took notice of them, everyone wanting to meet Ryan and to greet Shane after not having seen him in so long, and Ryan was kind of dizzy with all the attention they were getting from so many different directions. Luckily, none of the attention was bad. Everyone seemed overjoyed that Shane had a boyfriend, welcoming both of them like they’d always been together, and Ryan almost couldn’t believe it. His anxiety had convinced him an hour earlier that this was going to be a huge disaster, but here it was, just the opposite._

__

_The last family member to greet them was Shane’s older brother, Scott. Ryan had met Scott before, he was the only member of the Madej clan that made a point of flying out to LA to visit Shane sometimes, so he was spared having to do yet another introduction. Out of the limelight of the other relatives, Ryan watched as Shane’s shoulders slumped. Socializing so much at once was pretty exhausting for him, Ryan knew, but they still had a few hours of this before they could escape upstairs._

__

_Scott, bless him, led them to what seemed to be a home office where there weren’t any people and the noise wasn’t as loud so they could have a bit of peace from the Christmas chaos._

__

_“You okay?” Scott asked once they’d shut the door, sealing them off from the rest of the celebration, and Shane nodded. He was a little off this evening, but Ryan had just hoped to chalk it up to all the people they’d been pushed around to for the past hour. The look on Scott’s face as he took in his brother said differently, though, and Shane seemed to be able to read what that expression was saying better than Ryan could._

__

_“Hey, Ry?” Shane started, turning away from Scott’s gaze so he could face his boyfriend instead. “Do you remember Penny? The little girl my Aunt Marie was trying to wrangle earlier?”_

__

_“Yeah?” Ryan ventured, vaguely recalling a toddler with curly red hair refusing to keep little black dress shoes on her feet in the midst of the chaos of the living room an hour or so ago._

__

_“Can you go see if you can keep her entertained for a bit? Aunt Marie barely has time to breathe when nobody’s around to watch her and I know all the other people out there are too busy catching up to want to babysit.” Shane explained, clearly wanting Ryan to fuck off somewhere but feeling almost apologetic about it judging by the tone._

__

_“Of course, babe, I’ll help out. See you soon?” Ryan said, giving him a quick kiss as he headed out the door._

__

_“I wouldn’t miss out on playing with my favorite little cousin, especially if you’re there, Ry,” Shane promised, grin looking only slightly off, but Ryan smiled in return all the same. He knew he was just essentially kicked out, but the brothers clearly were about to have a private conversation that really didn’t involve him. Plus, he had the delightful task of babysitting an energetic toddler on Christmas Eve for awhile so he wasn’t too bothered by the dismissal. As he closed the door behind him, he could just about make out Scott’s voice speaking lowly, the words lost under the noise of the celebration out here._

__

_He made his way back through the house, easily spotting Penny even though he couldn’t quite remember what her mother looked like, and was saved from the potential embarrassment of guessing wrong by the little girl excitedly showing a shiny bow to the woman standing behind her. It also helped that Aunt Marie had chosen to dress the kid in the same red and black plaid that she herself was wearing._

__

_“Hey, Aunt Marie?” Ryan said to get her attention as he came up to them. He felt a bit weird addressing this woman with a familial title, but she had insisted when they met earlier, saying something about how she just knew they’d end up being family eventually, and Ryan was never going to admit that having Shane’s family members already so sure that they’d get married gave him a thrill of happiness and hope for that future to come true. When she looked at him, he continued. “Shane said that I should see if you needed somebody to watch Penny for a bit so you could have a break? I understand if you don’t want to leave your daughter with a total stranger-“ He explained, but was cut off._

__

_“Ryan, if Shane trusts you, I trust you. He wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t good people.” Aunt Marie told him seriously, leveling with him, and Ryan was suddenly reminded how tight knit the Madej clan really was. Shane had told him how it had taken months for Scott to get approval for a girlfriend to come to Thanksgiving when he was in college, so Ryan knew they didn’t let just anyone in. He felt honored._

__

_“I’m really glad to hear that, thank you.” Ryan said and Aunt Marie smiled warmly at him before turning her attention to the toddler at her feet._

__

_“Penny, be a good girl for cousin Ryan okay? Mommy’s gonna go talk to Grandma for a little bit,” She told her and Penny’s big brown eyes traveled from her face to Ryan’s and back again before she nodded as solemnly as her three years afforded her. Aunt Marie smiled widely at the little girl before turning her attention back to Ryan. “She shouldn’t be any trouble for you, she’s got her toys and I know there’s tons of exciting things around to catch her attention otherwise. It’s nearly dinner time anyways, you can just give her back when you and Shane come to the table, sound good?”_

__

_“Sounds great!” Ryan confirmed, already getting down on the floor so he could sit cross-legged to be on Penny’s level. She watched her mother walk away for a moment before she copied Ryan’s position and picked up the silver bow from where it had fallen as she’d listened to Aunt Marie’s instruction. She held it out in front of her and Ryan gently took it from her hand, showing great interest in it._

__

_“That’s really shiny!” He exclaimed, letting enthusiasm color his tone and to his delight, Penny started to giggle. “Do you know what this is for? This goes on top of presents!”_

__

_“Presents!” The little girl squealed, eyes lighting up in excitement as she remembered that it was Christmas, and she hopped up before wrapping her little hand around Ryan’s arm, attempting to drag him to his feet. Looking in the direction Penny was trying to pull him in, through the crowd of people, Ryan could see the lights of the Christmas tree. More importantly, he could see the stack of gifts surrounding it._

__

_“Hold on, kiddo, I’m coming,” Ryan laughed, pushing himself back up to a standing position, slightly bent over so as not to knock his tiny companion over. She was still gripping his arm, apparently with no intention of letting go, and started marching determinedly towards their destination. Ryan could only follow her._

__

_Penny only let go of him once they were both standing in front of the tree. She immediately wanted to start grabbing at the presents, especially the ones with shiny green paper, but Ryan gently pulled her hands away before she could begin tearing the paper open._

__

_“I don’t think that one’s yours, kiddo,” He said softly, making sure that she didn’t think he was getting mad at her. She hadn’t done anything wrong yet, he just stopped her from it. The look on her face broke Ryan’s heart though, she looked about two seconds away from beginning to cry and he felt so bad about it._

__

_He knew a thing or two about toddlers, however, including that their attention spans were very short._

__

_“Hey Pen, lets look at this ornament up here, okay?” Ryan said, scooping up the little girl so she could see the higher parts of the tree, and she was instantly entranced. From this height, the lights twinkled back at him from her eyes as she looked at the colorful assortment in wonder. She grabbed at what looked to be a handmade ornament, and Ryan, thankfully, didn’t need to stop her hand this time. It was a little stuffed Santa figure and looked to just be fabric and stuffing. No harm in her playing with it, he figured. His heart melted as he watched the joy on her face and was suddenly struck with the realization that he could have this. One day, he and Shane could have a little one of their own. God, he couldn’t wait for that future._

__

_That’s how Shane found them, ten minutes later. Ryan, fondly watching as the curly headed toddler in his arms was fascinated by the lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree. Ryan didn’t miss the fond smile on his boyfriend’s face as he approached them. He was just glad he didn’t seem as tense as he was earlier._

__

_Shane scooped the little girl out of Ryan’s arms and turned her around to face him. “Hey baby girl, how’s Penny doing? Are you having fun with Ryan, huh?” He asked, a soft fondness in his voice that Ryan had never heard before, and Penny started to giggle as she threw her arms around his neck._

__

_“Shay!” She yelled, excited, and Ryan thought it was adorable that she couldn’t say her favorite cousin’s name properly yet. She twisted around away from Shane’s chest and pointed at the tree. “Shay, look!”_

__

_“Yeah! The lights are really pretty, aren’t they!” Shane laughed, eyes crinkling in his joy, and Ryan was so grateful to witness this side of the man he loved. Yeah, Shane was gonna be a fantastic dad someday._

__

_He quietly slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the two of them. Shane, mid laugh, as Penny smiled widely with hand outstretched towards the tree, the lights giving them a warm glow and causing both to have twinkles in their eyes. Ryan sent the picture to his own mother and set it as his lockscreen._

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_Too bad the moment couldn’t last forever._

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_From the kitchen, Shane’s father was trying to call everyone’s attention to the fact that dinner was ready. Beside him, Ryan felt Shane tense up again, even though he kept the smile on his face because the child in his arms was still looking at him. Ryan vowed to ask him about it later as the three of them headed towards the massive dining room._

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_When they made it to the table, Ryan was surprised to see that there weren’t in fact one hundred people in this house as the century of introductions had led him to believe. There were only about twenty of them, not counting he and Shane and Shane’s parents, and they all had full plates of food sat in front of their places at the table. Since this was the Madej house and he didn’t really know how it worked, he let Shane take the lead and followed him without question as he chose three empty seats for them to claim. Shane first set Penny down on the far left seat, right beside her mother, before sitting down in the one next to it, leaving Ryan his place on the right. Looking around the table, Ryan was kind of puzzled as to why Shane’s plate seemed to have such a smaller portion than everyone else’s (barring Penny’s) but he didn’t comment on it. Shane had just picked these seats at random and it likely didn’t mean anything. He was looking too much into nothing._

__

_Before long, Ryan was swept up into a conversation with what he thought might be one of Shane’s uncles, sparked by the man noticing the purple Lakers bracelet around his wrist, and the meal seemed to fly by. Throughout the dinner, he’d heard Shane talking quietly beside him, mostly trying to keep Penny both entertained and eating her food by the sound of it, but they didn’t get much chance to talk to each other. As soon as people began leaving the table, Shane jumped up and began gathering empty plates, stacking his own half full plate on top, and Ryan rose to join him._

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_“Babe, you barely ate anything,” Ryan commented, puzzled because the food had all been so delicious and this was Christmas dinner, the time of celebration where everyone usually ate without abandon no matter how they’d normally eat. He went around the table and grabbed empty glasses and silverware as Shane grabbed the rest of the plates._

__

_“I was mostly focused on trying to make sure the kid ate,” Shane said as they walked into the kitchen and approached the sink, immediately busying himself with the business of filling one side of the large sink with warm soapy water while the dirty dishes were put down in the other side._

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_“Shane, I know you love her very much but despite that, she’s not your kid so it’s not really your job to make sure she eats during dinner,” Ryan pointed out, setting his pile of dishes next to Shane’s as Shane began washing a plate. Shane shrugged beside him._

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_“I told you, we were giving my aunt a break this evening. It’s her Christmas too,” Shane said and Ryan couldn’t disagree. As they’d walked in here, he’d seen Scott leading the little girl by the hand somewhere while Aunt Marie was socializing with a group of adults elsewhere._

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_Halfway through the stack of dishes, they had a good system going. Shane would wash them, rinsing the soap off on the side with the ever shrinking stack of dirties, and hand them to Ryan to dry. He couldn’t put them up since he didn’t know how the cabinets were set up or where anything went, but he stacked the plates and bowls nicely and set the glasses in neat little rows. He figured Shane would probably know where they went and they could put them up together._

__

_As Ryan was drying the final glass, he looked around the kitchen and stopped when his eyes fell on the appliance beneath the granite countertop on the far end of the kitchen._

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_“Babe?” He asked and Shane turned to look at him from where he was trying to get the sink to drain of the dish water._

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_“Yeah?”_

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_“Why’d we spend the last hour washing these if your parents own that dishwasher?” Ryan asked, pointing at it and Shane titled his head to the side as he tried to come up with an explanation._

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_“I just thought my mom would appreciate it, since it’s Christmas and everything,” He finally settled on and Ryan could tell it was at best a half truth by the way Shane’s eyes were bright with nervous energy. Okay, Ryan couldn’t stand all the weirdness around this woman anymore. He walked so he was standing closer to his boyfriend and made sure to lower his voice, not wanting his words to be overheard._

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_“Shane, what’s going on here? You’ve been kind of cagey since we walked in the front door,” He asked and Shane immediately averted his eyes from his gaze, preferring to look deeply into the sink as it finished draining._

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_“Don’t know what you mean, Ry,” He said, voice sounding kind of strange and Ryan really didn’t like this. He wanted to grab Shane and get them both out of this house right now, but he couldn’t._

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_“Shane, is everything alright between you and your mother?” Ryan tried to ask, being cut off halfway through the sentence as an excited squeal sounded throughout the house, coming closer to the kitchen._

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_“Shay! Ran!” Penny screeched, nearly falling in her haste to get to them. She immediately grabbed onto one of Shane’s hand, trying to drag him out of the room. “Present time, Shay!”_

__

_The relief on Shane’s face as he scooped the little girl up into his arms and headed for the living room was a dead giveaway that he was hiding something. Ryan would attempt to figure it out on his own since Shane evidently wasn’t keen to talk about it, but he’d ask him about it again before the night was over. With this in mind, he followed Shane and Penny back into the living room where all of the relatives were spread out on the furniture and the floor, waiting to open the gifts._

__

_Seeing as how all of the furniture had been claimed already, Shane carefully made his way over to some empty space beside Scott, setting Penny down in front of him. Instead of sitting down himself, Shane made his way towards his parents to help hand out the gifts, leaving Ryan behind.  
Scott has noticed, if the concerned look on his face as he watched his brother cross the room was any indication. _

__

_Shane spent half an hour handing out the presents, making a special effort to dig around until he’d found all of Penny’s gifts first so he could set the whole pile of them in front of her before everyone else got theirs, before he finally made his way back to Ryan’s side. Penny was still working on the last couple of gifts, slowed down by the tape that her little fingers couldn’t quite tear through, so Shane was content to just watch her make her way through those with a fond expression on his face. Penny, noticing his attention, had even crawled over top of Ryan with a box in tow to hand to Shane to finish opening for her._

__

_Shane himself hadn’t gotten many gifts, which Ryan had thought to be a bit strange but had assumed it was just because everyone knew they’d have to fly back and so were limited on space in their luggage. Scott had gotten him a nice hardback leather journal and some books, various family members had gotten miscellaneous gifts that counted for effort when you didn’t really know anything about the person you were buying for like hair and body care stuff, and lastly his parents had gotten him some clothes. With the other gifts, Shane had at least acted like he liked them and immediately thanked whoever they were from but with the clothes, Ryan swore Shane had flinched looking at the tags on them. Nonetheless, he had quietly thanked his mother for them. Shane had been more withdrawn for the rest of the evening, nothing really improving his mood, not even Penny attempting to get him to play with her new toys._

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_Shane hadn’t wanted to talk about it when they’d both been allowed to finally escape upstairs near midnight and in the chaos of Christmas Day breakfast the next morning, Ryan has forgotten to bring it up. Shane had acted off for the rest of their stay in Chicago, only getting back to himself when they’d gotten back to LA at the end of that week. They’d never talked about it._

__

Looking back on that first Christmas, now with everything he knew, Ryan could recognize all of the little things hat had just seemed weird at the time as being pieces of the puzzle. Some of the things, like avoiding actually eating Christmas dinner and the reaction to what he now knew to be the sizes on the new clothes, were behaviors motivated by Shane’s eating disorder. The weirdness with Shane’s mother was because even though Shane loves her, he kind of hates being around her because of how she had always treated him and made him feel about himself. Ryan didn’t know a lot about it, probably would never know most of it, but Shane had told him that she used to comment on how his clothing fit his body when he’d come home in high school, shaming him for going to school with his body shape so noticeable beneath the material. He’d also told him how she’d comment on his food choices or how much he ate at meals sometimes, leaving him self conscious about eating around other people for years afterwards. Ryan didn’t blame him for his unease around her, he’d hate being in someone like that’s presence too. 

It filled him with fury every time he thought too long about how she could treat her own son like that, but there was nothing he could do about it except try and keep Shane’s exposure to her to at a minimum when they went back for Christmas every year. He seemed to do better just talking to her on the phone every now and again, though Ryan had seen him quickly change demeanor just doing that sometimes. 

Shane never would tell him what those conversations were about, but from his tone of voice Ryan could tell they weren’t good. When it sounded like Shane was trying very hard to bite his tongue with her, his tone would get snappier and his voice would kick up several octaves with an almost childlike quality to his words and cadence. Ryan thought maybe he was trying to defuse the situation in a way, maybe trying to remind her that he was harmless (and maybe even defenseless, in a way) against her. He didn’t know, didn’t think Shane was even aware of the shift honestly, but it put him on high alert when Shane got like that on the phone. 

There wasn’t a good way to ask about someone else’s traumatic childhood, and also it was none of his business, so Ryan just had to be content with not knowing and trusting that Shane would talk about it when (and if) he was good and ready to, no matter how much it pained him to see how it effected him. It was just one more thing that Shane felt he needed to deal with on his own. 

While that particular memory hadn’t been the most pleasant to remember, that Christmas had had its highlights for both of them. Ryan still had the photo of Shane and Penny on his phone, it was one of his favorites actually. Of course, each successive Christmas had meant getting to take new pictures like that and it still blew Ryan’s mind when he thought about how Penny was in elementary school now, no longer the same little toddler he’d met those years ago. She’d been a flower girl at their wedding, too, and they had a framed picture of her proudly walking down the aisle throwing pink petals into the air as they rained down, some sticking in her curls. Shane had insisted they keep that one on the mantle in the living room, right next to a picture of the two of them having their first married kiss and a picture of both their immediate families in a group shot. Shane had said something about the mantle being reserved for family shots, so they kept pictures of their friends strewn about other parts of the living room. 

The memory had also reminded Ryan of his long held suspicion that Scott almost had to know about Shane’s disorder, he couldn’t imagine that an observant older brother like him wouldn’t have picked up on it throughout the years. Shane’s avoidance about food wasn’t exactly subtle, especially when you’re looking for it, so it was kind of impossible that Scott hadn’t at least noticed something was up on that front. Especially since Shane said this had been an issue since his teens, when both of them were still living in their parents house together. 

With everything going on right now, Scott would be a good person to have on their side to help Shane. Ryan pulled out his phone and typed up a quick message, wanting to make sure first that Scott actually understood what Shane’s relationship with food and his body was like before diving into their current crisis, and pressed send. He was pretty sure Scott was in California at the moment too because his girlfriend lived outside of LA and he’d been staying with her when the lockdowns started. Ryan could only pray that Scott wanted to help them, but considering it was past midnight he was going to have to wait until the morning for an answer. 

He couldn’t believe that time was going by so fucking slowly. He felt like they’d been driving for much longer than the clock told him they had. He wished they were at least to the California border by now, but they wouldn’t be until midday tomorrow probably. He wanted to get back to Shane as soon as possible, but they could only drive so fast unless they wanted to die on the way there. 

Sighing, Ryan readjusted his position so that he could go back to staring out into the blackness of the night. At least he’d been successful in using his memories as a way to distract him from letting the worry overtake him. He still almost couldn’t stand the thought of being away from Shane for another second, but he felt much better with the knowledge that he could likely get Scott to stand behind them in this new journey he and Shane were about to face together. Recovery wasn’t easy when Shane was in a much better headspace than he was now, his normal recovery periods being motivated by anger at plateau scale numbers more than any actual desire to actually stop using such dangerous methods, so Ryan knew this was going to be a difficult process. 

The first step would be to make Shane recognize that he needed to stop what he was doing for his own health, which was going to be hard by itself. Shane was stubborn on his stances, especially on things that he believed in his bones to be the honest truth. Ryan had a feeling that Shane probably couldn’t see what he was doing to himself, not the same way that he or Steven could, and if that was the case Ryan was going to have an ordeal trying to convince him of it. 

While Ryan had his phone out, he decided to try and get time to pass by faster by going back through Shane’s Instagram. He was looking for a specific post, back from when they had only just gotten engaged, and he had to scroll back through years of posts to find it but he got there eventually, smiling slightly as he tapped on it. 

It was about a week after Shane had proposed and the two of them were the happiest they’d ever been in their lives to that point. They’d spent the day walking the city hand in hand, visiting parks, going in shops, and trying to find art installations on the street. This picture had been taken in a public garden, the two of them smiling in front of rows and rows of pink flowers with a statue of what they could only assume was a Greek goddess, judging by the clothing carved into the rock. Shane had picked a few of the flowers, even though Ryan had worried about the legality of public owned flora, laughing as he countered that they were the public so these were their flowers in the first place. The Ryan in the picture clutched them in front of him, imitating the way brides always seemed to hold their bouquets in movies, and Shane had his arm around his waist. Shane’s hair was pushed back by the sunglasses on his head and he’d convinced Ryan to tie his own out of his face with a bandana, so they both were looking goofy as hell. But that was their essence, honestly. Goofy as hell, fully in love, idiots. Shane’s caption under the photo wasn’t anything special, but his emphasis on their engagement and his excessive use of emojis, fueled at the time purely by his good mood, still made Ryan smile as he looked at it now.

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**shanemadej: Day out with my FIANCÉE** 🥰💕💚😍😘💋👨❤️💋👨💜💗

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Shane had more love in his soul than anyone else that Ryan had ever met and he counted himself so lucky that Shane had picked him to share it with. Ryan scrolled through Shane’s Instagram, and eventually switched to his own when he’d reached the end, until his eyes burned from staring at the phone screen in the darkness of the early morning and he was too tired to keep looking through their old photos. The clock on the dash informed him it was about 3:30 in the morning now, and in the front seat he heard Devon quietly waking TJ to ask him to drive for the next few hours. As she pulled over so the two could switch seats, Ryan laid his head on his hoodie pillow and closed his eyes. He was asleep by the time they pulled back onto the road. He dreamt of Shane, of the memories in the photos he’d been reminiscing on for the past two hours, and was blessedly worry free until it was his turn to be woken up to drive a few hours later, after they’d gotten close to the Nevada state border. Halfway home, halfway back to Shane. If he went a little bit over the speed limit while he drove, the crew didn’t seem to notice.

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	5. emptiness to melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for taking so long, I finished with my classes at the end of June but didn’t have the mental energy to actually write again until the last few days!  
> Also I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, it’s only about 7k and I usually aim for 10k, but it felt like a good stopping point for this one
> 
> Title from Hozier’s “To Noise Making”
> 
> PS. Apologies in advance :)

_I wish I was dead_

is the first thought that crossed Shane’s mind when he woke up this morning and he knew today was going to be just awful. The clock said he’d slept for ten hours but his body felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Even asleep, he’d been plagued by the knowledge that he was never going to the be the husband Ryan deserved, something he’d always known but had been given new credence by the fight with Steven last night. Even when he hit his goal weight, he would still have the same shitty personality flaws that made him nearly impossible to tolerate for extended periods of time. It was a wonder Ryan didn’t just tell him to leave him alone on a daily basis, he knew he sure would if he had to put up with himself. Well, at least he would be skinny and intolerable. That alone might make up for some of it. 

He got up and stripped off yesterday’s clothes, disappointed but not surprised that he’d slept in jeans again, and went to the bathroom to begin the morning ritual that would determine if he was eating today or not. He’d at least have to look like he was eating whether he actually was or not, that was the barest courtesy he could offer to Ryan. As he stepped on the scale, he desperately hoped that Ryan was the only one he had to fool today, hoped that Steven had honored his request to be gone by now. 

Shane was not surprised by today’s number on the scale, and did the customary stepping on and off three times to make sure it was correct, especially considering what a disaster yesterday had been. He’d gained two pounds and while he wanted to scream, he knew it was his own fucking fault for being such a moron the day before. Doubling your intake was a risky move and what had he done? Multiplied it not by two, or even four, but by five! He’d eaten five times the amount of calories that his body was accustomed to eating! It didn’t matter that he’d tried in vain to throw them up because the damage was already done, the calories had been absorbed, and now the consequence was right there in the scale’s reading. 

He stepped off the scale in disgust and went back into the bedroom to get dressed. Since Ryan had been gone, Shane had been stealing some of his clothes because his own mostly hung off of him now and Ryan has always been smaller than him so it was easier to just steal some of his pants than to buy shit that may or may not fit by the time it came in the mail. Today, however, Shane felt like he was too fat to fit into anything other than his own clothing so he went to the side of the drawers that held his clothes. He also kind of felt like he would cry if he went to put on something and found it was too small on his massive body and he just didn’t have the mental energy to deal with that this morning. He pulled on a Henley and one of his flannels with a pair of jeans. The problem with the jeans, the whole reason he’d started wearing Ryan’s, was that they didn’t want to stay around his waist anymore. Though his irritation grew at having to hunt for the belt he’d carved better holes in, he felt a bit better to know that he hadn’t gained so much as to fit into his original pants size again yet. 

He walked around the bedroom over and over for ten minutes, clutching the front of his pants to hold them up all the while, checking in every possible place this goddamn belt could be in before he finally found it. It had been thrown on the top shelf in their closet quite a while ago. The last time he’d held that belt he’d had the nearly overwhelming urge to tighten it around his neck until he just fucking suffocated so he’d thought it best to throw it somewhere out of sight. Sure, maybe he was passively suicidal on the best of days but if he was actually going to act on that kind of thought he certainly wouldn’t do it in the apartment where Ryan would be the one to have to deal with his body in the aftermath. He couldn’t stand the thought of continuing to be an inconvenience to his husband even in death. 

He threaded the belt through the loops on his jeans and lined up the buckle with the very last hole he’d made in the leather. It was a little loose, but it kept the pants around his waist so he wasn’t going to bother with it any more this morning. Now that he’d wasted an embarrassing amount of time simply trying to do the basic task of getting dressed, he headed to the living room to retrieve his laptop so he could actually get something productive done today. 

To his relief, the living room was empty and, upon checking, so was the kitchen. Steven had actually respected his request to get out of his apartment by morning. Shane thought that was either a good indicator that he hadn’t been too pissed to respect his wishes or he’d been so pissed he’d left in a rage. He wasn’t sure which, but they had to film in a couple of hours so he guessed he would find out then. While he was in the kitchen, he grabbed one of his energy drinks out of the fridge. He hadn’t yet tested out his voice today, but it couldn’t hurt to drink the cool liquid before he tried it. Besides that, he was still feeling weak from his fuck up yesterday and knew he needed the nutrients if he wanted to have the energy to film later. 

When he walked back into the living room and had settled down with his laptop, he pulled out his phone to record the energy drink in his food log. That would take care of half his calories for the day, and he normally didn’t waste them so early in the day but needs were needs, so that meant he’d have to come up with 50 more calories across his two meals with Ryan. It would be a little difficult to make 25 calories look like a whole ass normal meal twice in one day, but he was sure he could pull it off. He’d snoop around in the newly stocked groceries soon and see what he was working with options wise later. 

For now he needed to focus on editing the rest of the footage of the latest show Watcher was going to release at the end of the week. It was another one with just him and Ryan, but he was the ‘main’ host in the same way Ryan was the main host on Unsolved. He thought of it as Their Show, even if it had originally started as his idea, because that’s how this worked to him. They did shows together, it could never just be Shane’s Show or Ryan’s Show. It was both of theirs, he knew the audience saw it in the same way as he did, and he hoped Ryan saw it that way also. Unsolved was Ryan’s baby, of course it was, but that was the only one of the shows the two of them did together that Shane felt was allowed to be classed as primarily Ryan’s. 

This new show was similar to some of the other shows they’d created for Watcher because it involved Shane taking Ryan somewhere just because he thought it was neat and wanted to share the experiences with him. It was basically him taking Ryan to different museums, some of them historical in nature but they’d gone to an art museum for one of the eps too, and he liked it and they’d both had fun filming it so that was what mattered. He hoped the fans wouldn’t hate it too much. He knew it was kind of lame, knew that it wasn’t the kind of riveting content many people were into, but since it starred them together he hoped the fans would watch it anyways. 

They’d shot it during last summer and because it wasn’t the show most likely to rake in the most viewership (and therefore wouldn’t be making the company as much money), it had been slated to be one of the last shows to be rolled out in the new lineup. That meant the other shows had taken priority for the past year and so, he was still working on editing and making these episodes perfect. The last time he’d been working on it, he had been trying to get through the voiceover but since he was a fucking idiot, he couldn’t work on that part today. So, he was going to go through the footage they’d shot again and start trying to decide which order the shots should go in to make the most sense for the overall cohesion of the episode and which clips were just going to be used when the voiceover would be playing. 

The basic idea for this show, how he wanted the final product to be, was going to be him and Ryan going to museums. At the museum, Shane had sort of acted like a personal tour guide for his man and explained the stories behind certain artifacts if he knew them (he knew a lot about American history, less about African history, for example) but the voiceover would condense those stories down into quicker chunks for the viewer. Maybe he got to rant about colonization and imperialism and white theft for an extended amount of time too, but their fans were good people who would agree with those points when he made them, he was sure. 

It wasn’t like he’d just walked into these places and started spouting off bullshit either, he’d become familiar with the displays he thought would be most interesting and had researched and learned about them in detail beforehand. He knew not everyone liked learning, but he did. He loved to learn, he spent his free time learning about all kinds of stuff just for funsies. Having someone to share the information he’d learned with just made it all the better. Sometimes he got on Ryan’s nerves trying to tell him about whatever he’d spent four hours learning about recently, so he never did it unless Ryan actually asked and he would shut the fuck up as soon as he noticed his husband getting annoyed. Ryan would never actually tell him he was annoying and stupid, but he could tell by the way his expression would look a little strained around his mouth. Sometimes Ryan just looked like he literally would rather be doing anything else than listening to him and Shane couldn’t fault him for that. 

Ryan did something similar with rambling on about stuff, but usually it was at least productive in his case. Sometimes it was sports and Shane kind of tuned out just a little, but usually it was about a murder case or a cool ass crime from the 1940s or something. The whole reason Ryan had created Unsolved was because he was really excited about that kind of thing and wanted to be able to present the stuff he’d learned concerning it, really. It was endearing and one of the qualities Shane adored about Ryan. Ryan would present theories on a new case he’d found when they were walking through the grocery store or anything, he didn’t care. They’d be looking at the cereal aisle while Ryan posited that the sheriff of some small town in West Virginia or something was covering up murder because of a debt from twenty years before and Shane wouldn’t stop him. 

It was fascinating to just listen to him sometimes. When it wasn’t for the actual show, Ryan would try and solve these cases and come up with his own theories rather than just telling him about other people’s theories, explaining in detail small intricacies that pointed to this or that being probable in the case even if it hadn’t been mentioned in any report or anything. 

Luckily, Ryan hadn’t seemed to be annoyed when they’d been filming the museum stuff so he didn’t have to edit around anything like that. The most difficult part of editing this particular show’s footage was having to look at himself, to be honest. He’d been dealing with staring at himself on film constantly for years now, but it always made him feel awful. There wasn’t a way to edit the fat off of his body, and if there was it would probably take too long to use effectively, so he just had to stare at the way his clothes were too tight and his hip fat was making his body look misshapen throughout the entire time he edited. He often wondered how Ryan let him really walk out of the bedroom every morning looking that way for work. How Ryan managed not to acknowledge what an embarrassment he had to be was a miracle. 

Sometimes he missed the format of GoPro footage, but they only got to have that for Unsolved. Since that was shot with him as a walking camera, his footage only showed Ryan or their surroundings. He didn’t have to look at himself that way and honestly? He worked faster when that was the only footage he was responsible for. The GoPro footage didn’t look good for cohesive format though, and was kind of ugly overall, so they couldn’t shoot everything that way, tragically. He just had to suffer through seeing himself on film and be content in the knowledge that hopefully he didn’t still look like that since the scale said he’d lost around 40 pounds since they’d shot this footage. That would be a win if it even was visible on his body, but he couldn’t tell if it was or not. He was tempted to make a short video just so he had the visual comparison of the two pieces of footage side by side but quickly shot down that idea. It wouldn’t end well for him if there was no difference he could see. 

He quickly lost himself in editing, the familiarity of the routine of cutting the footage and rearranging the sequence lulling him into an almost trancelike state, and the hours passed without interruption. Since editing was second nature by now, and he’d gone through and seen this particular footage dozens of times before, it didn’t really require his full attention so he allowed his thoughts to roam off task.

He thought about how his life was before he’d met Ryan, the haze of solitude that he lived in. He’d never had a lot of friends to begin with, but when he’d hit high school he’d felt more alone than ever. By that point, everyone else had spent the previous eight years forming cliques and building up friendships while he’d been bouncing between a certain couple of people. There was only one person he could honestly say was ride or die and always had been, starting with kindergarten and staying all the way through, even when he himself hadn’t been a very good friend. He lost touch with him when college had started, however, when everyone went their separate ways. 

It seemed like the only people who he was “friends” with were in need of his help more than just wanting to hang out with him for him. Everyone had a tragic backstory, an ongoing mental health crisis, or otherwise bad situation nobody else wanted to hear them vent about or help them with. As soon as that was dealt with, or as soon as Shane decided it wasn’t good for him to be involved anymore, those friends were gone. Shane couldn’t say he really missed those people, but it was painfully noticeable to him every time someone disappeared from his side. 

It was a lonely existence, honestly. He never had the interests of people his own age, never was “cool” enough to be worth anyone’s time, never enough in general. Yes, he knew he was a bit strange. Yes, he liked non-current things and perhaps had unconventional interests that he was very passionate about. But he was nice, he was kind, he just was quiet most of the time. It isn’t like he hadn’t tried to make friends. He was just ignored when he did try. If not ignored, he’d inevitably say the wrong thing and whoever he was trying to talk to would look at him like he wasn’t worth their time before walking off. 

That had taught Shane very early on that he was better off by himself. He had a Walkman and some headphones, his tapes, and that was all he needed to keep himself company. He’d told his mother his struggles when she’d asked why her house wasn’t full of kids like she’d always dreamed and she’d just told him that he looked unapproachable and should “act like somebody” instead of “walking around like you just lost your best friend”. Shane couldn’t do anything about what resting facial expression he had and the effort to consciously fix his posture to look more friendly or whatever was more energy consuming than it was worth, honestly, so he’d just ignored that particularly insulting advice and went through his high school (and college) years by himself. 

All of this, of course, was not made any easier by his food thing. In high school, it was almost too easy to lose weight. He fasted all day at school, only ate dinner (usually only half if it was something high cal he couldn’t get out of but more if he was just eating the vegetables instead of everything that had been cooked) and worked out in the evenings as well as at track practice. The only person who noticed was Scott, but Scott was off at college most of the time so it wasn’t that difficult to evade him. 

College was when things got more complicated in his quest to lose weight and gain self esteem (and maybe some friends, he thought people would like him better if he wasn’t so unappealing to be around). At college, he was suddenly the only one in charge of his food which would’ve been great except he was utterly without a kitchen. The dorms only allowed a microwave, no oven or any proper appliance for cooking real food. Shane suddenly had to start living on frozen dinners and even though he bought the low calorie ones and tried so so hard to stick to his calories like had been for four years at that point, the new social environment fucked up his plans. He had a roommate, a begrudging friendship he had to maintain to make his living situation not miserable, and that guy didn’t get the memo that Shane didn’t know how to have friends. 

Having friends, especially at age 19 and up, meant people with money who wanted to spend it when you hung out. Most often to spend it on food. This meant that Shane had a lot of unexpected meals and calories he couldn’t possibly plan in advance and he wasn’t on the track team anymore and he didn’t have time to exercise and maintain his 4.0 average at the same time and it was easier to drink diet pop than guzzle water and have to pee all the time and his roommate noticed he was weird about food and made it his mission in life to make him fatter and Shane spiraled a lot. 

He was almost close to having a panic attack just remembering the loss of control he’d felt all throughout his first two years of college, honestly. 

By the end of his freshmen year, he’d gained eighteen pounds. He lost ten of them over the summer and by the next winter, he’d gained it all back again. College and the forced meal plan that he wasn’t using and therefore wasting money on sucked. He was much better at controlling his calories and his weight when he was by himself and had access to actual food. When he’d finally gotten through his degree and gotten his own apartment after moving across the country to LA, he’d gotten back on track in a big way. He was completely alone for the first time in his life and that meant nobody knew if he was buying groceries or eating or if he exercised every free minute he had. Everything was under his control and he’d lost thirty pounds in the first few months after picking up a job. He had to modify that unsustainable diet of steady nothingness pretty quickly because his brain needed food so he could actually focus on his work but his intake wasn’t anything crazy, nothing he couldn’t burn off at night anyways. Life was going great. 

Eventually he’d switched jobs to work at Buzzfeed, he’d met Ryan, and the rest was history. He acted like he was a normal person when he had to eat in public, when Ryan would start staying behind to eat lunch with him instead of heading out with their coworkers, and Shane had to adapt to all the ways Ryan had started to occupy space in his life. At first, he thought it was weird that someone like Ryan would want to hang out with him but as their friendship began to grow, so did his affection for the other man. Somewhere along the way, romantic feelings started to make their way into the equation and Shane had to put more and more effort into not fucking up in front of Ryan because Jesus Christ he didn’t want to scare him off and ruin whatever this was going to turn into. 

That’s how he ended up here, he guessed. He’d proposed, thoughts running rampant with plans to move to a different state and change his name as soon as Ryan refused him because he’d probably never want to see his face again, but Ryan had said yes, surprisingly. They’d gotten married and they were both happier than Shane could have ever imagined being when he was younger. Life wasn’t perfect, but their relationship was and they helped each other when things got tough, no matter what it was. Ryan didn’t leave when he learned about Shane’s food thing and Shane, for the most part, stopped doing the more destructive methods he’d been using to achieve his goal. 

Like all good things, something had to come around and interrupt all that. Ryan had been stuck in Montana by an international health emergency and Shane had been left in a similar set of circumstances as he had been when he’d moved out to California. Nobody knew if he was buying groceries or eating or exercising all night. There was a key difference this time, though. Somebody _cared_ if he was doing those things. _Ryan_ cared if he was doing those things. And Shane was disappointing him every time he didn’t act like he was supposed to, every time he heard Ryan’s encouraging voice in his head urging him to sit at the table and eat breakfast, every time he glanced at Ryan’s baking apron hanging on the hook by the stove. He hadn’t felt bad about doing what he needed to to get to his goal weight when he had actually truly been alone. He’d hadn’t felt good about it since he’d started doing every unhealthy method he knew the minute Ryan had become stranded for the past long few months. 

Even now, mere pounds from his goal weight, he just felt like shit emotionally. He should be close to celebrating, he was about to hit the achievement he’d been working towards for almost twenty years, but how could he when he was hurting the man he loved in he process? Sure, he was going to stop as soon as the scale read that magic number, but he didn’t know if Ryan could forgive him for all the pain he put him through in the meantime. 

Noon came and went, no text or call from Ryan, despite it being their normal lunch time, and Shane didn’t notice until his alarm went off to remind him they have to start filming soon, jarring him out of his recollection and musing. It was 2 o clock and he was a little shocked to see the lack of communication, but he reasoned that Ryan was probably still upset from yesterday. He deserved not to hear from him, he knew. 

Putting aside the state of their personal affairs for a moment, they still would have to start filming in less than an hour. He dialed Ryan’s contact and held the phone to his ear, listening to the rings. The call rings for a long while before finally going to voicemail. _Come on, Ry._ He felt worry start to claw at his chest but he pushed it down as he opened his messages to try texting his husband instead. 

_Hey Ry, we still filming at 3?_

As soon as he hit the send button, the message bounced back, a small red exclamation point beside it informing him it was unable to be sent. Shane frowned and tried to send it as a regular text instead of an iMessage. Same result. Something was up. 

Shane wrapped his thumb and pointer finger around his opposite wrist, squeezing to make them touch, and the pressure was calming. It had started as a way to check the progress he couldn’t see, the less squeezing he had to do to actually touch the fingers together meant the wrist was thinner, meant _he_ was thinner, but somewhere down the line it had just become a habit for when he was panicking. He vaguely recalled that it was called grounding as he switched back to the phone app. He pressed Steven’s name before he could overthink it and brought the phone back up to his ear. 

Steven answered on the third ring and Shane felt a small rush of relief at the thought that that meant he wasn’t eternally pissed at him. 

“Steven, hey,” Shane started before the other man can get a greeting out, wincing at the way his voice cracked but at least it was semi-normal sounding. “Have you talked to Ryan today?” 

“No? Haven’t you?” Steven’s confused tone set him a little further on edge and he tightly squeezed the wrist that held the phone. 

“We have to film soon.” Shane made it a statement, didn’t know why he wouldn’t just tell Steven that he was getting worried about his husband. Maybe he didn’t deserve to feel worried since he seemed to be fine putting Ryan through emotional torture for his selfish reasons. 

“I’ll try calling him, okay? See if he’s been Twitter or something today in the meantime and I’ll let you know if he picks up,” Steven suggested a plan of action and Shane agreed immediately, hanging up without saying so much as goodbye. 

Shane returned his attention to his abandoned laptop, minimized the editing software and all of the folders holding his footage, and opened a new tab. He checked Twitter first, then Instagram, then even Facebook. Nothing posted on any of them in the last couple of days. As a last resort, he pulled up the crew’s various social media. The relief blooming in his lungs was palpable. There, on TJ’s Instagram. A photo of the whole crew in a car, Ryan just visible in the back. The location tag read Nevada. 

Wait. Nevada? 

Shane checked the date again. Yeah, that was from this morning. Okay. Ryan wasn’t stuck in Montana anymore, it seemed. Shane couldn’t decide if Ryan was on his way home, thought maybe that was something Ryan would have mentioned to somebody, or if he was just out living his own life now. His mind quickly decided on the latter. If this was leaving him, Shane really would’ve appreciated to have been told. He supposed you couldn’t choose how your spouse left you, though. 

He didn’t know what was in Nevada, if anything, but he hoped Ryan’s new start out there was a good one. He’d have to get Steven to work out the semantics of the company, of their shows, what they were going to do professionally if Ryan was just up and gone, but it didn’t seem like Ryan wanted to talk to Shane about anything. 

Shane’s vision blurred as tears blocked his view of the computer screen in front of him and he grit his teeth in frustration. He didn’t need this to be effecting him right now. He needed a plan, just to get through today. He took a shaky breath and swiped at his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself and push down his emotions for now. Okay, first things first. He texted Steven, told him to tweet out that they weren’t putting out a video today. He told him it was because they couldn’t do it without Ryan and that they couldn’t do it at all if nobody could get ahold of him. Admitting to him that Ryan had abandoned him was not something Shane felt ready to do right now. 

With the business thing sorted for the immediate future, Shane had to think about what he was going to do to deal with this. His first thought was to run away, after all, nobody here now to care where he was, but that wasn’t a real option. He had a job and a life here, his name was on the lease for the apartment, Obi needed to be fed and taken care of, he couldn’t just absorb everything like Ryan had apparently found it so easy to do. 

With the important stuff taken care of, Shane could feel the reality of the situation threatening to suffocate him. Ryan had left him. Ryan hadn’t even told him that he was fucked up, he just called it quits with no communication on the subject at all. Shane knew that yesterday’s episode had been the deciding factor, knew it like he knew his own name, but he hadn’t thought it had been bad enough that Ryan wouldn’t even inform him of a huge decision like this. He’d talked to Ryan at dinner and everything seemed to be fine between them, but that was before Steven had told him how much he’d hurt Ryan with his behaviors so maybe he just hadn’t been looking hard enough to see the subtle signs that this was bubbling under the surface of Ryan’s skin. 

God, he was so blind, so stupid, so selfish. He couldn’t even see the signs of his marriage about to go to shambles, couldn’t predict just when he was going to be abandoned, again. You would think after all the practice he had throughout his adolescence he would be a pro at this kind of prediction by now. But no, despite everything in his being telling him not to, he’d gotten comfortable in his relationship. He’d always been afraid that this would happen, but some part of him had been convinced Ryan would never actually leave him, that he was too kind of a person to do that. That part had shattered the moment he’d seen that photo on Instagram and put the pieces together. 

He thought about the belt around his waist, about how easy it would be to just slip it around his neck, how nobody would be coming now to find his corpse. Obi would need to be looked after still, but the cat bowl was an automatic feeder if there was no new food detected in the base after so long so he’d be fine. Steven or someone else would eventually come around to see what was up, they could take care of him after that point. The belt was halfway off before Shane caught himself. 

He wiped the tears he hadn’t noticed falling in the sleeve of his shirt and fixed the belt back around his waist. He shut off his computer and went to their (no, just his) bedroom with the plan of going back to sleep, the hope of this all being a dream very thin but very persistent in his mind. As soon as he walked through the door, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This room was covered in Ryan’s things, in reminders of him and their life together, photos of their relationship on every surface and souvenirs of their adventures in every corner. 

He couldn’t stay here and face all of this right now. He’d have a full mental breakdown if he had to have these constant reminders of his loss surrounding him before he’d had time to fully process that Ryan wasn’t going to be in his life anymore, wasn’t going to ever be by his side again. He was throwing clothes in a backpack before he realized it, throwing in one of Ryan’s favorite hoodies even though his heart would break every time he looked at it because it was one of the few things that brought him comfort. If Ryan didn’t want to be around him, he could at the very least keep this hoodie around. He tossed his phone charger and a toothbrush into his bag and zipped it up before slinging it on his shoulder. 

Obi was sleepily watching him, curled up in Ryan’s side of the bed, and Shane gently picked him up. He kicked Obi’s carrier out from under the bed and crouched down on his knees to place him inside, despite the cat’s displeased sounds of protest.

“You’re okay, Obi. We’re gonna be okay,” Shane said quietly as he stood up and steadied the carrier, not sure if he was trying to convince the cat or himself of the truth in that reassurance. “It’s just you and me again, huh?”

He had the sense to remember that going out meant putting on a mask, so he stopped on his way to the front door to put the little used article on before continuing on. He left his laptop and stuff behind, knowing work wasn’t going to be possible in this state, and locked the door behind him. Once out of his apartment building, he ordered an Uber and got in when it arrived. He was glad that the app let him type in the address and everything before the driver even got there. Between this crisis and the brain fog of starvation, Shane couldn’t have made simple conversation with the driver to relay the information if he’d wanted to, probably. 

He spent the ride in silence, absently sticking his fingers through the grate on the carrier so Obi could get some contact to know that he didn’t need to freak out in the car, and staring unseeingly out the window as the scenery of the city passed him by. Yeah, today was the worst day of his life. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Passing through Nevada was just the same as passing through Montana, minus all the crops. Nevada was more desert, more emptiness, but the stretch of highway looked the exact same. They were out in the middle of nowhere, having lost cell service hours ago, and Ryan was nearly desperate for them to get it back. He’d switched off driving with Katie after crossing the state border this morning, so he had little else to do besides watch the clock on the dash countdown to getting home to Shane. That meant he knew exactly when he’d missed their usual lunch date, putting him into a slight panic at the thought that his husband most likely wasn’t even going to attempt to eat without him, even though Steven was there to try and make sure he did. The panic only grew as the time they were going to start filming came and went and Ryan still hadn’t found even one bar of phone service in this godforsaken desert. 

They’d had service at a test area just after crossing the border that morning, but no more. If Ryan had known that, he would’ve called Steven to let them know that filming wasn’t going to be possible on his end today. Katie was driving the speed limit, and sometimes even a bit more than, but they were still hours from Los Angeles. Ryan wanted to explain to the crew his desperate need for them to go quickly, but he didn’t want to infringe on his husband’s privacy by sharing the reason he wanted to be home so badly. It wasn’t his place and he knew Shane wouldn’t want his health issues aired out to people like that. He was private about most things, but especially things that were of a personal nature such as that. So Ryan kept his mouth shut, willed down the desire to speed the driver along, and wished the hours were speed by. He’d be home soon, he just had to keep reminding himself of that. 

When he’d been taking his shift as driver, the singlemindedness of keeping his attention solely on the road ahead of him had managed to calm him down considerably. The importance of staying focused so that they didn’t crash had outweighed the anxiety that had been fighting to overtake his mind since before he’d left Montana. After switching off with another member of the crew, he could feel the nervous energy start to buzz under his skin again, the need to do something to aid Shane faster. 

TJ had noticed his restlessness and offered him his Nintendo switch as a distraction that would keep his mind and hands busy, but that had only marginally helped for about an hour. Ryan has thanked him for the effort and handed it back after giving up on the attempt. 

His mind was an eternal mantra of saveShanesaveShanehelpShaneShaneShaneShane. 

By the time they had phone service again, it was evening and they’d crossed the California state border. The only text message that came through was from Steven, informing him that filming was postponed today since they couldn’t get in touch with him. His phone was on 3% and they were almost home now anyways and Ryan decided to leave the message be. He could tell Steven that they could reschedule when he saw him at the apartment. 

He felt better as soon as their tires hit the pavement in California, felt like he could breathe easier now that he was back on familiar ground, closer to Shane now than he had been in months. 

They dropped off he various crew members at their homes in the order that they came to their respective neighborhoods and soon, Ryan was alone in the car, being the only one that lived close to the city of Los Angeles itself. The streets were surprisingly quiet and easy to navigate, but he assumed that was because the stay at home orders were still in place here. They’d been lifted in Montana but he and the crew had played it safe instead of venturing out to potentially become infected. He was glad his city was smarter than Montana seemed to be. Since the streets were relatively empty, he didn’t feel too bad about speeding the rest of the way to the apartment complex they lived in. 

He got there in record time, parked the car in the lot and ran up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for an elevator. He was too excited to see his husband, and too anxious to finally be confronted with what state his health was in, to wait for a moment longer. 

He quickly fumbled with his keys, unlocked the door, and threw it open to find the apartment dark and deserted. Heart pounding, he stepped inside. 

“Shane? Steven?” He called, checking the kitchen as his palms began to sweat. 

He came to the bedroom last, flipped on the light, and gasped at the mess of clothes everywhere, strewn about on the bed as if someone had been packing in a hurry. Ryan didn’t notice as he slid down the wall, nor the tears welling up in his eyes. 

Shane had taken Obi and left him.


	6. the meaning’s thin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title, again, taken from Hozier’s “Sedated”
> 
> Still not quite making it on time for weekly updates but I’m trying my best lmao  
> This chapter is extra long though, so hopefully that makes up for it a little!
> 
> Sort of a lot happens this chapter, plot wise, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it so make sure to comment if u feel so inclined, I try to reply to most of them!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

When Scott Madej had opened the door to his girlfriend’s apartment that evening, he didn’t know what he’d expected to be on the other side but he nothing could have prepared him for what was. Shane, or what could’ve passed as the ghost of his little brother, had been standing there (and Scott used the word standing very loosely, the figure looked about five seconds away from crumpling to the ground), with red rimmed eyes. He looked like he was just barely holding it together, which was alarming enough that Scott hadn’t even noticed the backpack or the cat carrier weighing him down. Scott immediately grabbed the luggage off of him when he did, taking the cat carrier from a lax hand and sliding the backpack off of Shane’s shoulder and down his arm with no resistance, before gently putting his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and guiding him in and down to sit on the couch. Shane didn’t say a word throughout this process, staring listlessly at the ground from the moment the door had opened.

Scott tossed the backpack into the bedroom and set Obi free from his little plastic prison before sitting down beside his brother. Shane didn’t say anything for a while and Scott didn’t rush him, knowing his brother was just trying to gather his thoughts. He would talk when he was ready. Scott didn’t know what had happened but his brother looked like he was definitely going through something. 

Shane wasn’t looking at anything, just staring ahead of him. The first two fingers of one hand circled his other wrist and Scott watched curiously as he periodically squeezed it, seeming to squeeze harder with each interval. Scott didn’t know if Shane was even aware he was doing it. 

“I really fucked up, Scott,” Shane said, finally looking up after twenty minutes of sitting in silence with his eyes unfocused. 

“And how did you fuck up?” The older Madej returned, used the same terminology because he didn’t want to reinforce an idea of fault if the fault didn’t actually exist. Shane was prone to blaming himself for things that were out of his control, a trait Scott couldn’t be sure was purely something he would’ve had in all timelines or if it was mostly due to their mother’s abuse over the years, and that just wasn’t healthy for him. Shane dropped his gaze again. 

“I made Ryan abandon me,” Shane’s raw tone, the genuine belief in his voice, made Scott’s heart break. Though he was still looking mostly down, Scott could still see the tears beginning to drip down his face. 

“Oh, Shane,” Scott’s voice was softer this time. “If he is gone, that was his choice. You didn’t make him leave.” 

Scott wanted to be absolutely certain his brother understood that this situation, Ryan walking away from their relationship, was ultimately something Ryan had chosen to do. Shane didn’t drive him away. His blood burned at the thought that his brother’s husband could hurt him like this and his poor brother could somehow think it was his own fault. 

“I have been very selfish lately,” Shane admitted, finally pausing his wrist squeezing routine so he could wipe some of the tears out of his eyes. “I’ve been doing some things despite knowing the effect those things had on him and I guess he just finally noticed that I was choosing to continue that behavior instead of caring enough about his feelings to stop it.” 

Scott furrowed his brows in confusion at the vagueness of the explanation, gaining almost no actual information from it that would help him to understand what went down between the couple. It was Shane’s choice to share the details of course, but the lack of any details was a little suspicious. He tried to think of anything his brother could’ve been doing that would directly impact Ryan to such an extent as to lead to his leaving, tried to think of anything being more important to Shane than the man he knew he would lay down and die for if asked, and couldn’t find one thing that he knew of that would fit. 

“Did he say that this... behavior was the reason he was walking out?” Scott questioned and Shane let out a bitter little laugh as he lifted his head to look at him. The self hating grin on his face unsettled something in the marrow of Scott’s very bones. 

“That’s just it,” Shane said, voice coming out in a strange pitch that Scott didn’t like one bit. “He didn’t say anything, not one thing. He didn’t even tell me he was leaving. He’s just suddenly in Nevada starting a new life without even telling me.” 

While Scott tried to process that, Shane took a shaky breath and seemed to lose the small burst of energy he’d had. 

“I fucked up things so badly that I wasn’t even worth a fucking text to tell me my husband was leaving me.” Shane almost sounded ashamed as he said this and Scott was quickly losing any good feelings he’d had about Ryan more and more by the second. For his brother’s sake, he tried to view the information he had from a relatively objective viewpoint, however. 

“Let’s look at this a different way for a second, okay? If he didn’t tell you he was leaving for a new life in Nevada or whatever, what indicated to you that he was?” Scott asked. His brother was usually the first to try and put the pieces together in a logical way before he came to conclusions. Surely there must have been something that told him that Ryan was abandoning their relationship if Ryan hadn’t told him himself. 

“Why else would he be in Nevada, ignoring all of my attempts at contacting him?” Shane countered. With every new bit of information, Scott felt like he had more and more questions than he had when the conversation had started. 

“How do you know he’s in Nevada if you can’t contact him? Did he just run away from the apartment in the middle of the night or something to get there?” Scott asked and saw what looked like realization flash in his brother’s eyes, like he’d just remembered something vital. 

“He’s been in Montana since the beginning of March because he was on a shoot when the lockdowns started,” Shane started to explain and Scott’s eyes widened before he interrupted. 

“Oh shit, Shane. You’re telling me you’ve just been alone in that apartment for almost six months?” Scott asked, not wanting to believe it, wanted to clarify he had heard him right. 

“Yeah,” Shane answered and then went on like that wasn’t a huge fucking deal. “But now he’s in Nevada. I know because TJ posted a photo this morning of Ryan and the whole crew and the location was tagged as some city in Nevada.” 

“Maybe he took that back in March when they’d been on their way to Montana?” Scott suggested because he didn’t know how to explain that one otherwise. Did it scream to him that it meant Ryan was just building a new life suddenly in that state the way it seemed to Shane? No, not really, but maybe there was something else to it. Shane was slow going with revealing details so far, maybe there was more to come. 

“No, no it had to be from this morning when it was posted. Ryan’s hair is longer and curly like it was last night when we FaceTimed.” 

“Okay. When you talked last night did he act weird or say anything that could’ve hinted that he was going to start this new life in Nevada? Or anything like that in the last couple times you talked to him even?” Scott felt bad for badgering Shane with so many questions when he was sitting next to him with tear tracks drying on his face but he couldn’t put the full situation into context if he didn’t know anything about it. Just in the last ten minutes, he’d already drastically changed his view on what had happened as Shane revealed more and more details. He’d gone from imagining a dramatic separation argument between the couple to envisioning Ryan leaving in the middle of the night with just a note of notice to this. Right at this moment, it seemed like Shane was saying he knew Ryan had left him based on nothing more than a group photograph with a geotag but that sounded incomplete. There had to be more to the story. 

“No! He was completely normal, just like he is everyday when we call!” Shane’s frustration was clear in both his exasperated tone and the way his eyes squinted as if he was physically looking for the answer, like he too was seeing it didn’t seem to make sense. 

“Shane, I’m not saying you’re wrong but let’s say maybe he hasn’t left you at all. Can we work under that assumption for a minute?” Scott asked, again very careful not to challenge his brother’s perception of reality as their mother had always been so fond of doing. She used to deny saying things or doing things that he or Shane had clearly witnessed, making both doubt their own memories and even their sanity to an extent. He didn’t want to make Shane feel like that now, not ever again if possible, but especially not right now around something so important. 

“We could,” Shane conceded as Scott thought more on what his brother had been living like lately. Ryan hadn’t been physically around, but apparently he’d been seeing Shane on videocall pretty much everyday. That would mean he would have clearly seen that something was going on as Shane disappeared to be replaced with the walking skeleton that he was now. Scott tucked that little revelation to think more of later, knowing that if he thought anymore on it right now he would just become more angry that Ryan had seen Shane getting sick and hadn’t thought to call anyone close by to do shit about it. Shane’s voice cut off that train of thought before it could go too far into that, thankfully. 

“Even if we assume he hasn’t abandoned me like everyone always does, that still leaves him being unreachable in Nevada.” 

“Is he unreachable because he’s specifically just not answering your calls? Or could there be another explanation like something happening to his phone?” 

“I guess. Maybe he just turned it off,” Shane offered, voice lowering as he lost faith in his own assessment of the situation. He felt stupid for letting his emotions get in the way of basic common sense. If Ryan hadn’t left him already, he really fucking should. Shane was a complete idiot. He’d made up something and convinced himself of it just by looking at an Instagram photo and had he stopped there? No, no he had to get his brother involved because he couldn’t deal with anything without running to him for reassurances like he was still a child or something. “Ryan probably didn’t abandon me, nothing happened.” 

“Shane, I would’ve been upset if I’d seen something like that photo with no explanation too, you know?” Scott asked gently, immediately picking up on the shift of mood, the increase in the self hatred evident in his brother’s voice. “We still don’t know why Ryan’s in Nevada, right? There’s still information missing. You were just filling in the blanks as best as you could while you were reacting to the only information you had. We’ve narrowed down some of the possibilities, but we don’t know for sure. It’s not stupid to try and find an explanation or to be wrong in the process of that. I’m wrong all the time, aren’t I?” 

“Not really, no. You’re generally right about most things, in my experience,” Shane said, a small (barely there, but just) smile forming on his lips. He still felt like an absolute idiot for overreacting, but he appreciated Scott’s efforts to make him feel better about it. 

“Not always,” Scott protested, false indignation coloring his tone, and Shane’s smile grew. “One time I genuinely believed that all bugs and animals go to bed at nighttime just like we do, do you remember that?” 

Shane laughed and Scott grinned, relieved that he still had that power at least. He could see it in Shane’s eyes that he wasn’t actually gaining much comfort or anything from this conversation, so he was trying doubly hard to actually make him feel better. This was his job, one of his duties as an older brother. If nothing else, he wanted to get rid of the haunted air that seemed to hang around Shane. He hated seeing his brother looking so lost, so defeated almost, nearly like he’d come this close to giving up on everything entirely. Scott didn’t want that to stick around, didn’t want to see where that road would end for Shane. 

“You even told me that they all go home when the sun goes down. I always imagined they had little houses hidden in the trees that were just camouflaged from human eyes,” Shane recalled, some of that childlike wonder Scott hadn’t heard in years shining through in his voice as the memory flashed through his mind. 

The brothers sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both seemingly lost in their thoughts. Scott was the one to break it, even though he knew that what he was about to say would erase the small content smile that had appeared on Shane’s face as he’d been remembering fond childhood memories. Scott hated to do that, but he couldn’t let something Shane had said earlier just be left at that. Now that Shane had calmed considerably over the Ryan situation, which he himself would be investigating more later, he wanted to bring it up. 

“Shane,” He said and waited until his brother had his full attention back on him before continuing. “Did you say earlier that Ryan’s been in Montana since March?” 

“Yeah, since the virus started getting bad here. Why?” Shane asked, genuinely seeming confused at the relevancy of bringing up that small detail now. Scott’s prediction had been right, gone now was the tiny expression of peace that had been on his face. 

“You’ve just been alone in the apartment all this time, then?” Scott just wanted to confirm, desperately wanted to hear him say that that wasn’t true, that one of their other friends had maybe been staying over or at least coming around every few days, anything that would kill the nagging feeling in his chest that he knew he’d heard correctly. 

Shane didn’t do so good when he was left completely to his own devices. He never had, but that had only gotten worse after his eating disorder developed. Once after Shane had first moved out to Los Angeles, Scott had surprised him with a visit and found out that he hadn’t eaten actually anything substantial in four or five days. Shane hadn’t told him, he’d just come across the journal he was using as his food diary at that time while Shane had been in another room. Scott had been horrified and over the course of that visit, made sure that he ate at least twice a day every day Scott was there. 

He didn’t know how much Ryan knew about Shane’s illness, but he would’ve hoped he knew the bare minimum to make sure he didn’t spiral when he was left alone like that. Especially since he’d apparently seen him every single day over video call, Scott would think he could tell if Shane was doing alright or not. Either Ryan was just an idiot or he blatantly ignored the terrifying day to day transformation Shane had undergone in the last few months. Either way, Scott hated him for it. 

Never mind the thing about Ryan possibly fully leaving Shane and their marriage, however unlikely that seemed to Scott just from the facts. Scott held hatred in his heart for anyone that could see somebody suffering and not do anything about it until it was too late. That went double when the somebody in question was his little brother. Shane’s actual safety was his top priority at all times, anything else came second. He blamed himself for not checking on Shane more himself lately, but then again, he reminded himself that he had been under the assumption that Ryan was there to look out for him. He had assumed wrong, gravely wrong. 

“Just me and Obi, mostly. Steven came over yesterday for a short while, but otherwise yeah, I’ve been in my apartment alone like everyone else on quarantine,” Shane shrugged, like he didn’t know the significance of that, like it didn’t matter that he hadn’t even had any human contact for months, like it didn’t bother him that nobody wanted to check on his well-being in such a scary time for the world in general. Scott’s heart ached at the dismissal of it all. 

“Shane, you should’ve called me. I would’ve...” Scott trailed off, didn’t want to seem too overbearing with the words that wanted to come out. _I’ve been right here this whole time. I would’ve looked after you._ “You didn’t have to just be alone on lockdown for the past six months with me twenty minutes away, okay?” 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Shane mumbled, eyes finding the ground again, shame splashing red across his cheekbones. 

“Have I ever said that you bother me? I think I’d be a terrible older brother if I wasn’t there when you needed me, really,” Scott said, trying for honesty disguised as a joke, but didn’t quite land it with the truth in his own words. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t known his little brother needed him and was hurting alone all this time. He was a bad big brother, he hadn’t even been calling very often to check on him since this whole pandemic started. He’d just assumed he was okay because he’d thought Ryan was there with him. He shouldn’t have assumed anything like that. Shane wouldn’t be looking like he was on the brink of death if Scott had just intervened earlier. 

“You’ve always been a better big brother than I deserved, Scott,” Shane admitted quietly. Scott had done so much for him for his entire life. He’d sat with him during lunch times at school, ignoring his own friend group in favor of keeping him company, even when the teachers had yelled at him because students weren’t supposed to break away from their age groups during any period. He’d distracted their mother in the middle of lecturing Shane on some flaw or something he’d done to tarnish their family image countless times, shifting her attention onto himself when he didn’t deserve to be belittled in his place. He’d even gotten into fights for going after people who had made Shane feel like a waste of space for just trying to strike up a friendly conversation, both at school and in other social environments like at the mall or a football game. Scott was constantly risking something in the name of make Shane feel better and Shane didn’t deserve such a good brother. Shane made him go through so much shit and couldn’t even be a fraction of the brother Scott was in return. 

“That’s not true. You deserve someone much better than I can ever be, but I like to think I try my best,” Scott smiled, hoping to take away the undercurrent of self hatred he could hear in Shane’s voice. It was a particularly familiar fixture there, especially prominent during his high school days, and Scott regretted to hear it again. 

“At the very least,” Shane returned and Scott took it as a victory that the tiny smile, a fraction of an imitation of Shane’s usual mischievous grin, had appeared. 

They didn’t talk again, both ruminating on all that had been revealed today. Shane still didn’t entirely believe that Ryan hadn’t left him, but his brother’s logic had worked itself into his brain and made a home there. It overpowered the part of him that wanted to say he really had just finally pushed Ryan away for good. The evidence didn’t support that he had. He would wait until he had a confirmation before he could really accept that, but it would linger just out of sight until he found something to tell him one way or the other. It didn’t look like Ryan was going to be telling him anything if today’s attempted contact was any indication. 

After a while, at Scott’s gentle insistence, he left the living room in favor of a nice hot shower. Shane wanted to wash the salt off his face from when he’d been crying earlier, but he also craved the warmth the hot water would provide. Scott’s girlfriend’s air conditioner had been blasting since he’d arrived and it wasn’t doing his freezing body any good despite his long sleeves. The only thing he ever regretted about losing weight was the weird temperature regulation side effect. He shouldn’t have chattering teeth in the middle of fucking July, but here he was. That was the main motivator for actually getting into motion instead of just laying his head down against his brother’s side to hide from his problems like he’d always done when they were younger. He doubted Scott would’ve tolerated it now as much as he had then. 

Scott was still sat on the couch, watching Obi explore his new surroundings, as he struggled to come up with what needed to be done about the Ryan situation. His first instinct told him he should find Ryan and beat him within an inch of his life for breaking his little brother’s heart, but he quickly squashed that down. That was more violent than he was in reality, for starters, and generally just wouldn’t accomplish anything. That definitely wouldn’t convince him to come back and talk out with Shane his reasons for having abandoned their marriage in the first place, if that was what had happened Scott wasn’t any closer to knowing for sure, but honestly? Scott didn’t want Ryan within twenty feet of his brother again at this moment. Anyone with eyes could see that Shane was ill and Ryan has apparently just flat out ignored that all this time. Scott wasn’t going to forget that, nor would he forget that Ryan was literally ignoring all of Shane’s attempts at contacting him today. He didn’t know if it was on purpose or if the phone really was having issues, but at this point he was inclined to believe it was intentional. He wanted Shane to feel better so he hadn’t said that to him, but it was how he felt right now. 

He had sent Shane to take a shower after he’d ruminated on his anger for awhile, reminding him that a hot shower would make him feel a little better with the combination of the warmth relaxing his muscles and the cleanliness of washing away the stress of the day and all that had happened. It was a remedy Scott had routinely employed throughout their lives after a big emotional outpouring, no matter which Madej brother needed it at the time, and it always worked. In particular, it had always helped Shane get to sleep afterwards and Scott was grateful for that effect on his brother, who had had issues with sleeping since he could remember. He hoped it would hold true now, knowing being unconscious was probably the only way Shane wouldn’t be thinking about what had happened today, the only way he’d get a reprieve from his suffering over it. He thought he’d managed to change his perspective of the situation a little bit, but he couldn’t know if that would stick against whatever awful thoughts ran through Shane’s mind. 

Scott knew how to deal with the aftermath of Shane being upset, had decades of practice at it. The other issues at hand didn’t have such easy fixes. Besides trying to figure out how to repair, or at the very least understand, Ryan’s unannounced leaving, Shane’s actual health was scarily in decline. He knew Shane hadn’t been eating enough again, assuming he was eating at all. It had never gotten this bad before, but the sickly way his bones strained against the skin encasing them was a familiar sight all the same. One Scott had hoped to never see again, in fact, but he’d known he would. 

When Shane had begun struggling, when Scott had finally noticed, the words “eating disorder” were not in his vocabulary. Shane was fifteen in 2001, just after the turn of the century, and Scott had just started his freshman year at college. He vaguely knew what an eating disorder was, had been taught briefly about it in a health class during high school, but under the assumption that it only afflicted girls. It wasn’t something men dealt with, certainly not something _his little brother_ dealt with. An eating disorder was a teenage girl refusing to eat because she wanted to be popular. An eating disorder was a model throwing up in the bathroom after every meal so she could keep her perfect figure and be beautiful. They weren’t two words he would associate with Shane. Until he did. 

_“Come on, Shane. Just eat, man,” Scott said, his voice soft and sad as he watched his younger brother staring reproachfully at a full plate on the table in front of him. Shane is in his second year of high school and isn’t able to fit into his hand-me-downs anymore, he’d went down at least two clothing sizes since leaving middle school. Scott had been worried for months about it, but their mother hadn’t shown any concern whatsoever._

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_At first, he had just thought it was a growth spurt thing when Shane started slimming out a little bit. High school is the time when most kids lost their baby fat or whatever, right? But growth spurts usually come with more height and Shane had already grown as much as he probably was going to the previous year and hadn’t gained an inch in the period of time he’d been losing weight. Scott was in his first year of college, spending less time at home than he usually would, so the next idea he’d come to was that maybe Shane was doing more sports at school. He’d always been in track, but maybe he’d picked up something else in addition? When that was ruled out (via asking their father), Scott started to really hope the answer was still something simple, something like maybe this track team had more practices so Shane was running more often during the week and that was why._

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_It was winter break and both of them were in the house regularly again. Shane was still disappearing day by day and not just physically. Looking at him for the past couple of days, Scott could barely see his little brother in this husk of a teenager sitting before him. His brother had always been a bit quiet, but usually he’d talk to Scott if nobody else, telling him about his day or about a movie he was really into or anything. He could talk for hours without interruption if you’d just let him and Scott usually was the only person who would. Since he’d come home from college though, Shane hadn’t said three consecutive sentences to him at a time._

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_“I am not hungry,” Shane repeated, as he had the four previous times Scott had put food in front of him in the last couple of days, but the growling from his stomach betrayed the lie. It seemed lies were the only things actually crossing the barrier of his lips these days._

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_Shane shook his head at him, a resolute no, and got up from the table. Scott watched as he had to pull his jeans back up three times just crossing the kitchen, the fabric refusing to stay around his waist despite the belt he wore. He recognized the jeans as being one of his old pairs and vaguely wondered why Shane kept wearing stuff that was clearly too big for him. He didn’t see Shane eat anything that night. He didn’t see him eat much the day after either and by the third day, he was terrified by what was happening right in front of everyone’s eyes._

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_On the fourth day, he started to figure out why his brother was hardly eating as he heard their mother lecture Shane from behind a closed bedroom door. Passive aggressive suggestions that **maybe he should keep up track practice on his own for the break, he wouldn’t want to put all that weight back on now, would he?** and Scott had to stop himself from slamming the door open. It was best for both he and Shane if he didn’t get involved and rile her up, he knew. He went back to his own room, keeping his door open so he’d be able to hear when Shane’s door opened down the hall, and waited until he was sure their mother had gone downstairs again. He crept down the hall and felt his heart sink as he heard the familiar sounds of his little brother crying. He knew he hadn’t heard every awful thing she’d said to him tonight, but it must’ve only gotten worse after he’d fled to the relative safety of his own room. _

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_“Shane?” He asked softly, knocking on the door jamb before pushing the door open the rest of the way from how their mother had left it cracked as she’d left. Shane was crouched in on himself in the corner between his closet and the mirror hanging on the wall, eyes shut so tightly it looked painful, tears leaking out the sides of them regardless. At Scott’s voice, he didn’t even try to act like he wasn’t upset, and seemed to cry harder if possible._

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_Scott was on his knees by his side in an instant, gently prying his hands from where they locked his arms together over his knees and trying to coax him into a more relaxed state so he could comfort him properly. Shane allowed his tense body to be maneuvered, not even opening his eyes, eventually moving on instinct to bury his head in his brother’s chest. This was a familiar position for both of them._

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_They stayed that way for a while, Scott holding him steady and mumbling mindless reassurances they’d both heard too often as Shane cried himself out. Eventually, he sat up and wiped the remaining tears off of his face, rubbed snot on the end of his hoodie sleeve, and leaned back against the wall, trying to compose himself further as Scott patiently waited._

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_“Okay, I’m good now,” Shane breathed out shakily, voice still sounding congested from the crying. “Thanks for being home again. Harder when you’re alone.”_

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_“I’m sorry I’m away for college,” Scott apologized, eyes shining, and Shane looked at him with disbelief._

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_“You can’t mean that. You escaped her!” Shane protested._

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_“I’m sorry I have to leave you here,” Scott amended and watched understanding cross the younger boy’s face._

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_“It’s okay,” He said, flicking his gaze to avoid his brother’s face. He looked at the floor, facing straight ahead, managing to avoid both Scott and the mirror’s judgmental surface at the same time._

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_“It isn’t. Shane, you know what she says to us has always been bullshit. Whatever she said today? That was bullshit too. None of it was true,” Scott said firmly, the conviction in his voice making Shane look at him again._

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_“Some of it was true.”_

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_“Yeah?” Scott challenged, cocking an eyebrow. “What could mom have possibly said to you that was true? When has she ever said something true when she’s like that?”_

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_“She said I was going to be as fat as I was before,” Shane’s admission was quiet and Scott thought his heart breaking was audible at the tone of his voice as he said it. “Scott, I can’t look like that again. Nobody likes me because I used to look like that and I still am so large but not as much as I was at the start of the year.”_

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_Shane was rambling now, the threat of tears beginning anew, desperately trying to convey the things he’d been thinking since he’d first stepped foot on a scale and learned what a BMI chart was, learned that he was so terribly overweight. He’d never paid any mind to his mother’s comments on his body before around April of that year when they’d noticeably increased. Before, he had the image of a much lower number in his head from a doctor’s office visit a year or two prior. That’s what he had thought he’d weighed, it didn’t really matter to him. He was a fourteen year old boy at that point, worrying about his weight wasn’t exactly high on his priority list. But then his mother had spent a solid hour lecturing him on how she couldn’t believe she let him go to school like this, how she would be ashamed of herself if she was him, and Shane had stepped on the scale in the bathroom that night. With that one action, he’d begun his weight loss journey and he’s strictly stuck to it. But it wasn’t yet enough to satisfy her, so he’d keep trying until he was the right size._

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_“You’re fine, Shane, you’re fine. You’re skinnier now than I was at your age and skinnier than over half of the boys on your track team, probably skinnier than many of the boys at school too. Your body is perfect, don’t listen to what she has to say about it.”_

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_Shane wanted to argue, wanted to deny what Scott was saying, but the words brought him comfort. Scott’s voice always served as a balm against whatever psychological injury their mother’s words caused, helping to cast doubt over the things she screamed at him. Despite knowing that this time, their mother was right and Scott was wrong, Shane took comfort from the reassurance. Scott would go back to school soon, so he would take all the comfort he could get while he was still here to give it._

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_“Thanks, Scott,” Shane whispered and Scott smiled softly at him._

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_Scott had thought that would take care of the problem. When he came home a few months later, this time for summer break with his first year of college under his belt, the issue was still there. Shane had dropped another clothing size._

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_This time around, Scott could see Shane ate every day. There was a catch, however. He only ate dinner and only certain types of food, sometimes only certain amounts of food. Scott didn’t know the reasoning behind how his brother chose if and what he was eating from day to day, but he knew it was calculated. Nobody he had ever known put so much thought into meals. Still, their parents said nothing about it._

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_Scott watched this pattern continue throughout the summer and by the time he went back to college, he had a mission. He went straight to the library on the first day of classes and checked out every health book he could find that mentioned eating disorders in their glossaries. Shane had a problem and he was going to find out how to help him with it._

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__He hadn’t known then, as a sophomore in college, that Shane would still be struggling with this problem decades later. He did know that he would never stop trying to help him, though._ _

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Scott was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by a loud thud followed by a cry of pain. He was up and down the hall, flinging open the bathroom door almost without thinking about it. That was his brother’s voice crying out and the fear that gripped his heart didn’t leave room for thought, only reaction on instinct. 

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That instinct led to Scott finding Shane pushing himself up on the floor of the walk in shower, using his knees for leverage as one arm was tucked in tightly against his chest, and that sight was only slightly better than the much feared image of him with his brains bashed in lying motionless on the flor that Scott’s brain had helpfully flashed through his mind during his rush to the bathroom door a moment prior. The fact that half of his head was still covered in suds from where he must’ve been in the process of shampooing added an extra layer of vulnerableness to the sight. Scott was on his own knees in an instant, kneeling in the floor of the shower uncaring as the water rained down upon them both, carefully helping Shane into a sitting position with his back against the tiled wall. He looked a little out of it but wasn’t in the position to have hit his head, so Scott was going to hope he hadn’t. It looked like he’d landed pretty much on his front from the way he’d been trying to get up and there weren’t any marks on his face that Scott could see. 

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“Are you okay? What happened?” Scott asked, softly, eyeing the way Shane had instantly began to support the arm so it could stay up against his middle as soon as he’d been upright again. He watched as his grip traveled to be around the middle of the arm, staying just shy of being around the wrist and definitely staying clear of the hand attached to it. 

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“I hit my wrist off one of the metal bars when I fell,” Shane said through teeth grit against the pain shooting through his arm, seeming to radiate from every single nerve in the limb and consuming nearly all of his attention. He couldn’t even feel the water, gone cold now, as it hit the rest of him anymore, nor did he seem to notice the soap running in his eyes as it slid down his face aside from trying to blink it out when it interferes with his vision. Distantly, he felt horror that his body was being seen in all of its bare glory, his fat and every roll on full display, but the pain commanded more of his attention than that did at the moment. Besides, it was just Scott. Scott had had to see him naked their entire lives, he’d seen his hideous body before and had never made any comment about it. 

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“What caused you to fall?” Scott asked, standing up now that he was satisfied his brother was relatively stable in gravity, so he could retrieve the shower head from the wall. He turned the handle of the shower up a few notches in the hopes of it reigniting the hot water tank so he wasn’t about to blast freezing water over Shane’s head. 

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He crouched back down, fingers hanging under the spray as he waited for it to warm up, and tapped his brother on the knee to remind him to answer. 

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“I guess I slipped,” Shane offered after taking in a shaky breath and Scott wasn’t going to call him out on the clear lie that was right now. The shower had anti-slip patches lining the bottom of it and several hand rails that could be grabbed if a fall did start to happen despite them. Shane shouldn’t have ended up in the position he had because of the safeguards if it had been a simple slip as he claimed. He would’ve had time to grab the bar instead of hitting his wrist off of it. Right now though, all that mattered to him was the outcome of the fall, not the cause of it. 

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In truth, Shane had gotten lightheaded from the steam of the shower and had almost started to blackout with it, not helped by not having eaten anything that day, and just hadn’t been aware enough to grab the handrails on his way down. In a funny way, he was glad for the pain since it was the only thing that was keeping him alert at this moment in time. 

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“Okay,” Scott said and dropped the subject as the water finally managed to go up in temperature a noticeable amount. “Can you tilt your head forward and close your eyes for me?” 

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Shane did as asked without comment, the purpose of the request becoming clear as lukewarm water started cascading down on him as Scott finished washing the soap out of his hair for him. Shane, as he had been many times in his life, was grateful he had Scott on his side. He knew even if he had nobody else in the entire world, Scott was always going to help him even without being asked. That’s what family was supposed to be like, whether he was deserving of it or not. With the state of his wrist, Shane wouldn’t have been able to easily finish his shower on his own if he’d wanted to (and his dignity would’ve wanted him to if he was with anybody else) so he was doubly grateful right now. He’d finished washing before he’d started on his hair so this was the final thing that needed done before he could get out of the shower. 

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When the hair was absent of suds, Scott tipped his head back up and spray some of the water on his face before lightly rubbing at the corners of his eyes to get the soap out of them, Shane opening his eyes instinctually at the light pressure at the edges of them. Once that was done, Scott stood again to replace the shower head and turn off the water before he grabbed two towels off of the sink. The first, he draped over Shane’s head. He patted the fabric over his face first to dry it, taking care to use the corner of the towel to get the water out of his eyes so he could see properly again, and then rubbed it on his hair to get most of the excess out. Shane’s hair was longer than usual, but it was still going to air dry pretty quickly, especially given the summer heat, so Scott didn’t try to dry it completely or anything. Once done with that, he tossed that towel back onto the sink and stopped as he thought about the best way to do the next part. 

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“Hold on, I’ll be back,” Scott offered by way of explanation as he once again stood up, towel left laying on the floor in front of Shane, before he turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom. 

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Shane listened to his retreating footsteps as he contemplated the pros and cons of letting his injured wrist stay against his chest purely by the strength of the arm it was attached to alone. Considering the only embarrassment he felt at needing help from his brother to shower was based on that he might need help drying off his body, Shane decided it was worth it to attempt to dry himself using just one hand. He wasn’t embarrassed to need help, he just didn’t want his brother to have to dry his unmentionables. 

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By the time Scott reentered with clean clothes, even if they were just some of his old lounge clothes he could only hope wouldn’t hang off Shane’s tiny frame too much, Shane had managed to dry off every part of his body that wasn’t touching the bottom of the shower. He had also only dried his left arm up to where he’d previously been gripping it, but the rest of it had mostly dried by now anyways. Lucky for him, this meant Scott only had to quickly swipe the towel down his backside once he’d got him standing. 

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“Thanks for helping me, Scott. Sorry I couldn’t finish showering without an incident,” Shane apologized, a small self deprecating laugh coming with the words, and he saw Scott draw his eyebrows down in response. He hated it when he talked down on himself, even in the most subtle of terms, but it was a hard thing to stop doing when his thought processes just naturally included stuff like that all the time. 

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“You know I’m happy to help you, man. Like I said, I’d be a bad big brother if I wasn’t,” Scott reminded him, hands around his waist to keep him from toppling over as he struggled to pull on the pajama bottoms with one hand. Shane had gotten used to the sharp ache in his wrist now, able to ignore it for the most part as long as he didn’t actually move his arm, and the part of his mind that hated his body was louder now. That part wanted to scream at the touch, at the fact that Scott could likely feel the pudge on his hips and was probably secretly disgusted by it, but Shane didn’t obey it. If he wanted to be dressed, he was going to have to put up with being touched. It wouldn’t take that long anyways, he was fine. 

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It did turn out to be both quick and relatively easy. The shirt Scott had brought him was a tank top with the arm holes slit down to the end of the ribcage, meaning it didn’t require him to move his arm too much to get the shirt on properly. He reasoned with himself that the length of his arms covered up most of the skin exposed by the tank being so revealing because there weren’t really any other choices. It was either this tank top, picking a different shirt which would lead to more excruciating level pain to try and get on around his wrist, or just not wear a shirt at all. There wasn’t a choice there. 

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Fully clothed now, Shane was led back to the living room to sit on the couch, despite being mostly stable on his own two feet now. He knew Scott was just afraid he was going to fall again, so he didn’t stop him from guiding him there. He appreciated that Obi hopped up to lay against his legs as soon as he’d sat down, perhaps sensing somehow that he was hurting. Scott, incredibly, had sat down on the floor in front of the couch instead of beside him on the piece of furniture. His brother, who was for all intents and purposes pushing forty, with his legs curled beneath him in clothes that were still wet from the shower, sitting on the floor made Shane laugh. Scott grinned at the sound, no matter that it wasn’t Shane’s full fledged laughter that he was used to hearing. It was a good sign on all fronts that he had it in him to laugh at all. 

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“Okay, now that that’s all taken care of, can I look at the damage?” Scott asked, reaching towards the injured appendage but stopping just short of actually touching it until he’d gotten permission. 

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When Shane nodded, though somewhat hesitant, Scott gently moved the arm to extend it out from his body instead of curled against it so that he could better see the wrist in the light. It didn’t look good, to say the least, and would definitely look worse as time went on before it would look better. 

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Though the fall had only been about twenty minutes ago, the wrist was already swollen. It looked like it had bruised almost on impact judging from the darkness of the bruising at the point where wrist became palm. The rest of it was sure to be different shades in time, but for now were red and blue tinged at different sections. Scott didn’t want to cause his brother any more pain than was necessary, but he needed to feel around the site of the injury to see if the bone was alright, as he’d been taught in first aid. 

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“This is gonna hurt a little, but I promise it’s something that needs to be done and I’ll make it fast, okay?” He asked before he began. At Shane’s nod, he directly put pressure on the wrist, starting at just outside where the bruising began. Shane’s noises of pain became louder as he got closer to where the bruising was the worst and he tried to hurry through his amateur examination as quick as he could. What he’d felt under the skin didn’t bode well with him. As soon as he’d taken his own fingers away, Shane returned his wrist to its protective position against his chest. 

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“I hated that, thanks,” Shane muttered, willing the renewed pain to go back down to the ignorable ache it had been as he glanced at his brother’s facial expression to see if he could determine what he’d concluded from that tortuous exercise. “What? Did I sprain it or something?” 

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“Shane, I think it’s broken,” Scott said seriously and he could see his brother’s doubt clear as day at the statement. 

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“It’s probably just a sprain,” Shane countered, despite the crooked look of the bone that he hadn’t really noticed until now. Honestly he hadn’t actually looked at the injury much, just kept it close to him in the hopes of escaping further pain. Shane knew his bones were more fragile than the average person because he didn’t get nearly enough calcium or whatever, but he doubted he’d actually broken a bone falling in the shower of all places. It looked bad right now, but surely in a couple of days it would heal up as long as he didn’t go around whacking it on every available surface. 

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“I think we should get it x-rayed, dude,” Scott insisted and knew what Shane’s first argument would be before he’d even had the chance to open his mouth to protest. “I’ll even pay for it, come on.” 

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“We shouldn’t go to the hospital just for this, there’s a pandemic on,” Shane tried but Scott had an answer for that argument too. 

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“The hospital is the most sanitary public place we could possibly be in right now. Besides, if it really is just a sprain, we’ll be in and out in no time,” The gentle coaxing tone Scott was using reminded Shane of when they’d been little and he’d use a similar tone to convince him to do the dishes after dinner so they could go to the park down the street without making their mother mad. The tone that said _Please do this for me. It’ll pay off, I promise._ and _This is something good for you, even if you hate it at the moment._

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“Okay, we can go get it checked,” Shane relented and Scott beamed at him, though the worry shining in his eyes dimmed the effect of the smile a little bit. He watched as Scott retrieved his wallet (and Shane’s, too) and keys from the kitchen and grabbed a pair of shoes that Shane could easily slip on. Shane was glad for once in his life to see a pair of flip flops. No hands required to put those on. 

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Once both of the Madejs had their shoes on, they left the apartment (with Scott hovering just behind Shane, still ready to catch him should his balance waver) and took the elevator down to the parking level of the building. Scott unlocked his car and opened the passenger door for Shane so his brother could continue to cradle his hurt limb to his chest, keeping it secure and safe from further harm. He also helped him to buckle up once inside the car before going around to the driver’s seat. 

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They didn’t really talk much on the way to the hospital, other than Scott muttering to himself as he made sure he’d actually grabbed Shane’s wallet because they would probably need his health insurance card when they checked in at the registration desk before he’d even started the engine. He laid it in the seat beside Shane and nudged it into the oversized pocket of the lounge pants he’d helped him get on. Shane supposed he couldn’t forget it if it was on one of their persons and he was glad Scott was allowing him the small dignity of keeping his own valuables. 

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The ride only took about twenty minutes, maybe twenty five at most, but Shane had nearly fallen asleep with his head leaned straight back by the time Scott pulled into the hospital parking lot. Scott felt bad about having to bring him back to wakefulness, he’d had a fully exhausting day between the emotional stress and the physical stress. 

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“We’re here,” Scott announced, gently nudging Shane’s knee before getting out of the car and Shane blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes. 

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“Great, we’re that much closer to getting this over with!” He infused his voice with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster right now since Scott was still within earshot, clicking the button on his seatbelt and trying to be quick enough to grab it before the metal part whipped up and straight into his wrist simultaneously. Though he managed to catch the safety device in time, he managed to jostle his arm in the process, reawakening the pain that had faded to be a manageable aching once again. “Oh fuck,” He hissed, clutching at the arm on instinct. Nothing like a fresh wave of pain to fully wake you up. 

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Scott, thankfully, was fully outside the car and had shut the door, and so didn’t witness this reaction. Shane didn’t want to cause his brother more worry than he already was, so he stayed as still as he could and waited for the flare of pain to dull. Scott had taken the long way around the car and by the time he reached Shane’s door, the pain was almost tolerable again. Almost. 

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“Here, I don’t know where you put yours when you got in the shower,” Scott said after he’d opened the door, holding a baby blue fabric mask that matched the one on his own face. Shane hadn’t even thought about masks since he’d stripped his off when he’d gotten to Scott’s apartment earlier, between the chaos of everything that had happened since then. He also just wasn’t used to participating in the practice, having only left his apartment a handful of times since the pandemic began. 

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“Thanks, man,” Shane said gratefully. He had the vague notion to try and put the mask on himself, but abandoned that idea when he realized he’d have to give up his protective grip keeping his injured wrist stabilized if he did. Scott didn’t seem too bothered at the extra task though, quickly putting Shane’s mask on like it was natural to him. 

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“No problem,” Scott replied, helping him out of the car and shutting the door behind him once he was out. They made their way to the entrance of the emergency room, Shane noting that the parking lot was pretty bare aside from Scott’s car and four others. That was probably a good sign that there wouldn’t be too many people inside. 

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Scott stopped just outside of the doors and Shane shot him a confused look. 

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“Can I grab your wallet out of your pocket? We should have your insurance card ready when we walk in, don’t you think?” Scott asked and when Shane nodded his permission, he reached into the left pocket of his borrowed lounging pants and fished out the accessory. “Do you want me to keep this on me? They’ll make you take it off your person when they do the x-ray, I’m sure.” 

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“Keep it safe for me,” Shane tried to say with a smile, though the expression on his face felt more like a grimace. All of his energy was focused on three very important things. The first was making sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself further today. The second was making sure his anxiety around medical places stayed down. This was just a sprain, he just had to remember that he’d be in and out in like an hour. The third, and arguably the most important task he was focusing on, was trying to keep his mind on what he was doing right now, trying to keep it away from thinking about Ryan. If he thought any more about the probably shattered remnants of his marriage, he was gonna start crying again and he didn’t know if he’d stop. He’d rather do that in the privacy of his brother’s guest room later on, thanks. No time for any of that right now, not in public. Not in this fucking hospital. 

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They walked through the sliding doors and up to the registration desk, where an older lady peered unimpressed at them from the wire frames that overlapped the top of her mask. 

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“Name?” She asked, skipping any small talk pleasantries, and Shane appreciated her straightforward approach to her job. 

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“Shane Alexander Madej,” He recited and watched as she typed it quickly into her computer. 

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“Reason for coming in?” 

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“Hurt my wrist,” Shane nodded down at his chest and the woman’s eyes widened a little at the sight of his wrecked appendage. To her credit, she just plowed on with her routine questions without comment. 

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“Insurance?” 

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At this, Scott pushed Shane’s insurance card into the little slot in the plastic layer of protection separating the receptionist from the outside world. She picked it up and fed it through a scanner, presumedly photo copying it to go into his file, before giving it back. Scott produced Shane’s wallet and slipped the card back into it while the woman typed some more on the computer. A moment later, the printer behind her spit out a sticker sheet. She grabbed it, pulled off the only sticker with text on it, and stuck it on a plastic bracelet. This, she pushed through the little slot back out to them. 

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“Fasten that on your noninjured wrist,” She instructed. “The nurse will scan it throughout your visit to verify your identifying information. Take a seat in the waiting area and someone will be with you shortly. Because of the health crisis, your friend here isn’t allowed to go back with you.” 

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“Thank you, ma’am,” Shane said. Scott repeated the phrase before they both made their way to the uncomfortable looking plastic chairs closest to the door that led to the examination rooms. 

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Scott would never admit it, but he made this seating choice because it meant his brother wouldn’t have to walk so far. He gently pried Shane’s hand off of his injured arm so he could fasten the hospital bracelet on. The waiting area was empty, meaning (hopefully) the nurse would come to fetch him soon. The length of the bracelet wasn’t very long, but Scott had to pull it through almost to the last notch before he could securely fasten it around Shane’s wrist and he had the sneaking suspicion that the receptionist had used the child sized one instead of the normal one. He didn’t think Shane had even noticed. 

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“They’ll just do an x-ray, right?” Shane asked, a small hint of anxiety creeping into his voice. Again, he inwardly cursed his stupidity at fucking up his wrist and having to come here. He’d always associated hospitals and doctor’s offices with the lectures on his weight that he’d received during many checkups when he was entering his teens, as well as with the worst way to die he could imagine; a prolonged illness that finally resulted in a drawn out death. The stale odor of sickness thinly veiled with lysol set him on edge and made him vaguely nauseous despite having only been inside the building for maybe ten minutes. He wanted to get out of here as soon as he could and hoped the x-ray would be the only thing he had to go through. 

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“Yeah, should be,” Scott answered as he took out his phone, presumedly to provide himself with entertainment for the wait he had ahead of him. He was going to have to sit out here while Shane went to be examined by himself. Watching him, Shane wished he had something to distract himself with but hadn’t even thought about trying to bring his own phone since both of his hands were occupied right now. Besides, it would’ve been too much hassle to ask Scott to retrieve it from his backpack where he’d shoved it after ordering his Uber earlier and turning the whole thing off. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to be contacted by Steven about company stuff. He knew nobody else would try to get ahold of him, as evidenced by the months of quarantine with no messages or calls from anybody save Ryan. He knew for damn sure Ryan wasn’t going to be contacting him either. 

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“Scott?” Shane asked, bringing his brother’s attention back to him. He knew he’d gotten his full focus too because even his leg had stopped it’s rapid up and down descent, a nervous unconscious tic Scott had when his mind was occupied with something. 

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“Yeah?” 

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“Are you sure you don’t mind keeping me and Obi for a couple days? That your girlfriend doesn’t mind us being in her apartment?” Scott had already told him it was fine, but he wanted to make sure again. It was kind of childish for him to run to his older brother to escape the memories that haunted his own apartment, he knew that, but he was never going to be able to come to terms properly with Ryan’s leaving of their marriage if he didn’t distance himself a little bit. Even if Scott had been right and Ryan hadn’t left yet, he knew he would. He was just trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. It was coming sooner rather than later, if it hadn’t already. He wouldn’t burden his brother’s kindness for long though, he’d make sure of it. He didn’t want to strain Scott’s own relationship by intruding on his and his girlfriend’s life. 

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“You’re welcome as long as you want, you know that,” Scott seemed to have smiled behind his mask, though something behind his eyes seemed guarded. Shane knew he’d never overtly tell him he didn’t want to help him with his shit, even if he had a lot of his own stuff to deal with. Another reason to try not to overstep the boundaries of that generosity. 

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“Shane Madej?” A gruff voice called from the now open door beside them, drawing both of their attention, and Shane stood up. Before he left his brother behind, Scott spoke again. 

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“Hey, I love you, okay?” He said, voice sounding off in a way Shane couldn’t immediately place. 

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“Love you too, man. See you in a little bit,” Shane replied and joined the nurse at the door, feeling a little puzzled at the affectionate phrase as he followed him back towards the examination rooms. He and Scott were closer than most siblings he knew, he would say, but they didn’t say I love you to each other much, certainly not just out of the blue like that. Usually they only did at the end of phone calls or when they parted ways after hanging out or something. Weird. 

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~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~ 

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Ryan didn’t move from the spot on their bedroom floor for a long while, the shock making him immobile as the idea invaded his very cells. He didn’t want to believe that Shane had just up and left him, especially not with him being not even in the same state, but that was the first conclusion his mind had come to with the evidence he’d come upon. Shane wasn’t here. His backpack was missing and his clothes were all over the bed. The cat wasn’t even here. Certainly, Shane had gone somewhere with the intent to be gone for quite a while or at least that’s what it looked like to him. 

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Ryan wiped the tears away from his eyes as he started to actually think about this situation from a less emotional point of view. Maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong, actually, but it just might actually be that he’d jumped to a conclusion too quickly. He’d just been expecting to find Shane and Steven both when he got home, had expected a much livelier apartment than the empty one he’d walked in to. 

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The contrast of reality had probably contributed a little to the immediate emotional suckerpunch he’d felt when he’d seen that Shane was gone. He took a few calming breaths before he stood up, switching on the light so he could actually see the state of their bedroom. He needed to look around and see if he could find any clues to what was actually going on here. 

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Thinking rationally, it wasn’t in Shane’s character to just abandon their marriage without even talking to him about it. He’d told him that during his previous relationship, he’d debated for days before breaking up with the person and then had only done it after speaking to them for a couple hours at length about the state of the relationship. Shane wasn’t someone he would consider to make a rash decision like this. That made him feel a bit better. It was time to get into investigation mode, time to switch his brain to the mindset it went into when he was researching a case. That’s how he needed to treat this for right now, not let his heart get in the way of logic. 

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He decided to start with the bedroom since he was already in there. He went over to the bed and looked more closely at the mess of clothing covering it. It still looked like Shane had just been packing a bag in a hurry, but now that he was actually looking, he could see it was mostly his clothes on the bed. Sure, a couple of the shirts were Shane’s but most of this came from his own side of the dresser drawers. That added to the theory of the speed at which he’d been packing, if he hadn’t even taken time to notice what clothes were actually going into his bag. That didn’t make any sense. Shane hadn’t known he was on the way home, so why would he have hurried out of their apartment so quickly like that? It’s not like he needed to avoid a confrontation if he was actually trying to walk away from their life together. Besides, this had been Shane’s apartment first so his name was still on the lease. If anything, he would have to kick Ryan out, not leave it himself. 

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Ryan had never been so grateful to see holes popping up left and right in a theory of his in his whole life. His initial thought that Shane had left him seemed to be firmly ruled out just based on the hurried packing alone. That slowed his heart rate back down to its normal speed. Just to further cement that that wasn’t even a valid possibility, he decided to check the rest of the apartment. 

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While yes, Shane’s toothbrush was missing from the bathroom, his comb and his expensive shaving razor were not. The only shoes of his that were missing were his tennis shoes and Ryan assumed that was what he’d worn when he’d left the apartment. Checking the filing cabinet revealed all their important documentation such as Shane’s birth certificate and his passport were still there, though Ryan had expected that since passports were useless while the world had US citizens banned from all international travel anyways. Still, he took it as a good sign that Shane planned on coming back. 

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Going back to the living room turned up Shane’s laptop, charger still plugged into the wall though not plugged into the device itself, and his Beats headphones. He also found all of their expensive recording equipment such as microphones and spare cameras still in the hall closet where they stored them. If Shane was leaving for good, he seriously doubted he would leave all of this stuff behind. 

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On a less superficial basis, Ryan also noted that all of their framed photos were still in their proper places. Even if Shane had decided he was done with their marriage and would have left behind any photos with Ryan in them, he knew he would’ve taken some of the others. The picture of Penny as the flower girl at their wedding, in particular, Ryan knew Shane would have taken with him. The picture was on Ryan’s phone, not his, so this was the only copy he had access to. Shane cherished that little girl more than almost anyone else in the world, he’d definitely have taken it if he was leaving forever. 

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That was the final nail in the coffin on that theory. Shane hadn’t left for good, which meant he hadn’t walked out on their marriage. Finally able to relax with that, Ryan sat down on the couch as he tried to come up with a more plausible explanation. Even though he’d eliminated one theory, the facts remained the same. Shane had left the apartment in a hurry and had taken Obi with him, a detail Ryan could only assume meant he wasn’t planning on being back very soon because Obi would need to be fed every day. Okay, he just needed to figure out what would cause Shane to leave in a hurry and be gone for more than a day, nevermind needing to be gone at all. There was a deadly pandemic on, Ryan couldn’t figure out what would even motivate his husband to leave the apartment in the first place let alone actually go outside the building. 

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Then it hit him. Something had to be wrong. Shane wouldn’t have just up and left in such a rush when there was such a huge risk of going out in public if there wasn’t something going on. He didn’t think he would take Obi along if there was something wrong with Shane himself, so that only left that something had to be wrong with someone Shane loved. Shane didn’t fuck around when it came to the family members he held near and dear, he’d go through burning lava for them with no questions asked on a normal day. If something had happened to one of them? Shane would stop at nothing to get to wherever they were and do whatever they needed. Ryan knew this because it was the same fierce love and loyalty Shane had directed towards him, he could only imagine the added strength that held for his blood relations. 

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Ryan decided that had to be it. If something had befallen one of his family members, Shane would have packed his shit and left as soon as he could to go to them. He would’ve left Obi in Steven’s care and that made sense at the cat’s absence as well. Steven probably wouldn’t have felt the need to stay in their apartment just to take care of him when it would have been just as easy to take him back to his own apartment to look after. With this idea looking more and more likely (and infinitely more appealing than the last had), Ryan pulled out his phone to call Steven and confirm his theory. 

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The screen didn’t immediately light up as it usually would when he tilted it upwards. Frowning, he clicked the volume buttons to get any sort of response from the device. He was rewarded with a flashing red battery symbol. Oh right, now he recalled the phone being on an obscenely low battery percentage hours ago and how he had dismissed it at the time. The phone was completely dead now. 

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Sighing, he got up and grabbed his bags from where he’d dropped them at the front door, taking them back to the bedroom to unpack them since he had to find his charger before any calls could be made to anyone. He found the charger shoved underneath the second layer of his clothing and plugged it into the wall on Shane’s side of the bed, plugging the other end into his phone. The battery on the screen now informed him it was steadily receiving the power offered. He’d chosen Shane’s side because he would be spending the next little bit of time there to clean up the mess he’d left in his hasty exit. 

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First though, he pulled his own clothes out of his duffel bag and stacked them in the drawers where they belonged since it was the quicker of the two tasks to be accomplished. That done, he laid his laptop on the desk they shared in the corner (there wasn’t space in the room for two of them) and went about putting his bathroom essentials and other electronics in their proper places. Soon, he was just left with the clothes all over the bed. There were smaller tasks to do after that, too, like making the bed that Shane never bothered to and to put a few other items back in their spots that Shane had left in disarray, but the clothing was the main task. He tapped his phone screen before he tackled that and was rewarded with no change. The phone hadn’t had time to charge enough to even show the lock screen yet. He was doing the tidying up in remarkable time, it seemed. Part of it was to keep him feeling like he was doing something useful, part of it was to pass the time until he could actually start finding some answers, but mostly it was to keep himself from overthinking his theory too much. 

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As he began folding the clothes beside him, starting first with his own shirts, the new theory started to present its own holes. Or at least, he started to worry about what it would mean for Shane if he had actually rushed off to deal with who knows what by himself. They hadn’t had their lunch date today and he didn’t know what time Shane had gone off on this endeavor, but he likely hadn’t eaten anything at all before he’d left. He didn’t even know if Steven was actually successful at convincing him to eat in the first place, sure that Shane eating last night had more to do with FaceTiming him than it had to do with Steven being there. 

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Horror scenarios of Shane passing out alone in the middle of the street and smacking his head open on the concrete began to run through his mind. Shane had been nearly unconscious on the bathroom floor not even twenty four hours ago, he was in no condition to be going off anywhere right now. Ryan hadn’t been able to talk to him today, but he was sure he wasn’t feeling great. He imagined he was probably still pretty weak, actually. 

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As he thought about all of this, filling in gaps that he’d glossed over before with information he knew had to be true about Shane’s physical condition based on what it had been yesterday, Ryan’s worry was joined with just a hint of anger. If Shane had been called away, he couldn’t believe that Steven would have just let him go. The whole point of Steven’s presence in the first place was that Shane wasn’t in the right frame of mind, nor really in the best physical condition, to be taking care of himself right now. Ryan seriously doubted those two facts had stopped being true overnight, so why would Steven have had just decided to abandon the promise he’d made to look after him in Ryan’s absence like that? Therein existed two possibilities. Either Ryan’s whole theory was out the window because Steven wouldn’t have let that happen or Steven didn’t care enough about Shane (and by extension his own friendship with Ryan) to make good on his word. Either way, Ryan didn’t like the implications. 

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He had never cursed the fact that Apple purposefully slowed down their systems every time a new iPhone was released more than he did right now. His phone died quicker and charged slower and usually he didn’t mind that much but right now he was really anxious to call anyone that would be able to tell him where his husband was and why. He’d managed to fold all of clothes as he worked through all of these logic inconsistencies in his mind without really noticing his progress. He picked up the three neat stacks and took them over to the dresser, where he set each category of clothing in their proper places. His shirts on his own side of the drawer, Shane’s shirts on his side of the drawer, and the shirts neither of them could remember the original owner of were sat off to the side on top of the dresser to be dealt with later. He didn’t have time to think about such mundane things right now and besides, he should include Shane in that sorting anyways since he knew Shane favored some of the shirts more than others. His chest gave a slight pang at the domesticity of the small task for the future, a reminder that there wouldn’t be any more tasks shared between them like that if Shane wasn’t here in the future to share them with. Shane’s health was in danger, making that a very real possibility. 

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Ryan didn’t want to think about that right now. The most important thing was actually finding Shane and making sure he was okay. Finally, he saw the phone screen blink to life. 

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He sat down on the corner of the bed and put in his password, their anniversary date, and opened his contacts. He pushed Shane’s name first, heart pounding in his chest when it didn’t even ring once, instead going straight to voicemail. That meant either the phone was dead or it was turned off and Ryan really didn’t think either option was likely. If Shane was out, he definitely wouldn’t have turned his phone off. If he was at a relative’s house and the phone was dead he would’ve simply plugged it in to charge. This wasn’t boding well, not at all. 

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With shaking hands, he pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up the call before immediately punching Steven’s contact. At least this one was actually ringing. 

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“Hello?” Steven answered after the fifth ring and Ryan sent up a silent thank you to the gods. 

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“Steven! Hey! Are you and Shane at your apartment, for some reason?” Ryan asked, words coming out fast in his quickly rising fear, and he was met with a moment of silence on the line where he thought maybe the call had been dropped. “Steven?” 

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“I’m at my apartment and I assume Shane’s at your apartment,” Steven finally answered, saying it slower than usual like he was choosing his phrasing carefully, and the blood rushing in Ryan’s ears almost drowned out the rest of his words. “How did you know I’m not at your apartment?” 

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“Because I’m at my apartment, Steve. Shane sure isn’t!” Ryan didn’t mean to yell into the phone but holy fuck, Shane’s actually missing right now. The only person who’d actually been in his general proximity recently didn’t know he was even gone and his phone wasn’t available for whatever reason. What the fuck. He wanted to scream. Anything could have happened to his husband and there was no way to know about it. 

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“Calm down, Ryan, what do you mean Shane’s not at the apartment?” Steven asked and Ryan wanted to laugh at the suggestion. He wasn’t going to be calm until he knew where Shane was and what had happened. 

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“He took some clothes and the cat and he’s not here! First I thought maybe he’d left me, but there’s a lot of reasons why that doesn’t make any sense and then I thought maybe he had a family thing and he left Obi with you, but now you’re saying you don’t know anything about it and-“ Ryan stopped as he realized a bit of information his panic had delayed him from processing. When he spoke again, his tone had changed from being high pitched with fear to being almost menacingly calm. “Steven,” He started. “Why are you in your apartment and not mine right now?” 

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On the other end of the line, Ryan could practically hear Steven fumbling for an answer. 

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“Shane asked me to leave,” Steven settled on and Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. 

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“Let me get this straight, let me make sure I have this correct,” Ryan said, the disbelief clear in his voice. “Shane, who you had to nearly carry to the couch last night. Shane, who looks like death warmed over. Shane, who doesn’t really see the issue with not eating for days on end, the Shane who you specifically promised me you would stay and look after to make sure he didn’t destroy himself. That Shane asked you to leave and _you actually listened to him_?” 

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“We had an argument and I thought the least I could do was respect it when he told me leave,” Steven explained, hoping it would quell some of the other man’s anger if he understood the circumstances more. It didn’t. 

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“Were you planning to just let my husband kill himself because of some petty argument? What the fuck, Steven!” Ryan bit out. Of all the things he’d expected, Steven just throwing away such an important responsibility over something so unbelievably stupid wasn’t something he ever could’ve predicted. Steven better be glad this was a phone conversation because if he had been face to face with him, Ryan would’ve decked him, pacifist or not. 

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“I was coming back,” Steven defended and Ryan scoffed. It was nearly seven in the evening, when exactly was he planning on showing up? Ryan had never felt such distaste towards someone he personally knew as much as he did hearing that pathetic excuse come from Steven’s mouth. 

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“I’ve been home for two hours, Shane’s been missing for who knows how long, and you’ve been gone since when? Just when did you deem it worthy of your time to come back to check on him?” 

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“I thought he would be fine until tomorrow,” Steven admitted, had the decency to have shame color his tone, and Ryan had to bite his tongue before he said something he’d regret. 

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“You thought wrong, didn’t you,” He spit out, words bitter and soaked in the rage he was swallowing down. His fear and anxiety had produced the anger because Ryan was looking for answers, looking for someone to hold accountable. It wasn’t productive to be here yelling at Steven for his stupidity, but he was going to make sure he knew just how stupid it was. “Shane’s phone isn’t in service, Steven. We don’t know where he went and we can’t contact him to see if he’s okay. Do you see the severity of this situation that probably could have been avoided if you hadn’t left after your little argument?” 

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“Yes,” Steven relented. “I just really upset him and figured it was the least I could do to leave him alone like he wanted after that.” 

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“What did you even do to upset him?” Ryan asked, this new piece of the puzzle causing his concern to grow. This put the events in a new light and he really didn’t like where it was going. Not a lot upset Shane, but if he was so upset that someone he’d been arguing with suddenly felt bad enough to do as asked? Couldn’t be good. 

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“I shouldn’t have said it the way I did,” Steven started, sounding genuinely remorseful this time and Ryan’s heart sped up. “I told him that he was basically hurting you with all of this behavior, the starving and everything,” He explained quietly. 

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In the midst of the argument last night, Steven had felt a fire in his chest at the unfairness of the whole situation, at the selfishness of Shane to willingly starve himself when he knew it caused Ryan grief to see him do it. He didn’t feel that fire now. Now he just felt cold as he thought about Shane’s sudden disappearance. Ryan had said he took clothes and the cat so that ruled out a kidnapping, but anything could have happened when he stepped on the street. 

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“Why the fuck would you say something like that to him? He’s sick, man, he doesn’t do this shit on purpose!” Ryan yelled, mind racing with horrifying ideas that maybe Shane had gone and jumped off of a bridge or walked into traffic on the freeway or something. He couldn’t imagine what his husband’s mental illnesses had done with those awful words from their supposed friend running through his head. “What the fuck, Steven. Just, what the fuck is wrong with you.” 

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“I didn’t understand it, I was angry that you were so upset and he had the power to do something about it and just refused to.” Ryan doesn’t glorify that explanation with a response, pulling the phone away from his ear to jab the red button to end the call. If Shane was dead because of this, he would never speak with Steven again. Even if Shane ended up being fine, he wasn’t sure he would speak to him again. He had always known Steven to be at least a little empathetic and knowledgeable on mental illness, he couldn’t fucking believe the callousness he’d shown Shane for his. 

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Ryan took a few deep breaths to quell the fresh wave of fear and anger thrumming through his veins. His mind marginally clearer, he tried to look at the situation again from the rational angle. Shane wouldn’t have taken clothes with him if he was going to step off a bridge. He wouldn’t have taken Obi with him if he was going to step into traffic. Both of those facts being present had to mean wherever Shane had gone, he planned on being alive after he reached his destination. That, at least, was good news. 

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While racking his brain for any special place he could think of that Shane might have went to escape for a while, the phone in his hand began to ring. Scott Madej flashed on the caller ID. Ryan hurriedly answered it and was met with the icy, biting tone of Shane’s brother. 

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“Oh, so your phone is in working condition? Shane asked me to inform you he’s being held under a section at LA General Hospital.” 

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Ryan’s heart froze behind his ribs.

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	7. i will not ask and neither should you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest thing I’ve ever posted for this fic but I just felt like y’all deserve Something while I work on the actual next chapter so here, have Shane’s intake report   
> Don’t check me on medical accuracies tho lmao

Date: July 17th, 2020   
Reporting Physician: Anna Chambers, MD  
Patient Name: Shane Alexander Madej  
Patient DOB: 5/16/1985  
Admission Date: July 17th, 2020  
Room: 314

Chief Complaint: 35 y/o male presented to the emergency room with complaints of injured wrist, possible sprain. 

History of Present Illness  
Height: 6’4”  
Weight: 127.6 lbs, BMI: 15.6  
Oxygen Level: 97%  
Heart Rate: 63 BPM  
Blood Pressure: 103/68   
Temperature: 98.6 F

Assessment and Plan:  
Patient’s initial complaint of injured wrist led to a visual examination of right wrist. X-Ray ordered, concluding wrist was broken. Attending physician put right wrist into immobilization device until cast can be made and applied to patient at later time. Patient questioned about the cause of this injury and stated that he fell while in the shower and “slammed” it on the edge of the bathtub. Declined to say what caused him to fall. 

Nurse who did initial vitals raised concern with patient’s weight and when asked, patient admitted he had been on a “diet” for quite some time with the goal of reaching the weight of 120 lbs. The nurse asked about this “diet” and the patient admitted he had been purposefully eating as little as possible. Patient made several comments about his body and appearance that implied he could not see what his body truly looked like, including expressing severe dissatisfaction with his weight and the level of fat on certain areas of his body, such as the thighs and hip area. Patient’s bones are visible through his skin to nurses and physicians, little to no fat to be seen. On call psychologist, Jesse Mason, Psy.D, to be consulted in regard to these comments. 

After reviewing Dr. Mason’s notes (see separate report), the physician made the decision to admit the patient. Patient refused to be admitted voluntarily, denying that he is in need of medical attention, and so has been admitted involuntarily on basis of being a danger to himself. As it is involuntarily, patient has been legally sectioned and this status will be re-evaluated after the initial 72 hour hold period is over. Patient can then have admission extended up to a month or can choose to seek treatment voluntarily.


	8. the grounding of a foot uncompromising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”  
> This chapter is basically a chronological series of flashbacks from Scott’s perspective, but still largely Shane centric   
> This is not the chapter I intended to write next, nor the one you readers were probably expecting, but I thought a more fleshed out understanding of how these versions of Shane and Scott grew up would be helpful to a few of the beliefs Shane still holds and will exhibit in upcoming chapters   
> Also the next couple chapters will deal more with the medical side of Shane’s disorder and I need to do research to ensure I portray it accurately as I don’t have personal experience with hospitalization   
> I apologize because this chapter is a little bit short, especially in light of how long it took me to actually write and post it, clocking in at just barely 8k   
> College starts up again for me in two days so expect it to take me a bit to post again, I’m gonna aim for two weeks but I don’t know how the workload will be tbh   
> As always though, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

_At what point does trauma become **enough**? That was a question Scott had struggled with for most of his life. Was it really abuse if his mother didn’t hit them? Was it really so bad that he felt like he could get hit by a car and be lectured for it afterwards? Oh, the horror, his mom just wanted him to stop being a dumbass so he could succeed in life, how terrible of her. That’s what everyone’s parents did, wasn’t it? Yeah, the words hurt a little (maybe a lot sometimes) but she just wanted him to be able to make something of himself when he grew up. He could deal with it since it was ultimately for his own good. _

_He only vaguely began to question this, just the tiniest bit at first, when he had started to be around other people and their parents for social gatherings like sleepovers. Nobody else’s mother berated them in the same way his did him. Other kids got scolded for actually intentionally doing things wrong. Scott got scolded for accidentally doing things incorrectly. Not wrong, just not to his mother’s satisfaction. Scott observed this with a few different friends and each time, came to the same conclusion. Other mothers did not treat their kids the way his treated him. He had thought that maybe he was just a little bit worse than other kids, that he required a bit more criticism so he could be on the right track._

_That was fine, he guessed. Sometimes the truth was hurtful but it was still the truth. He didn’t question the things his mother told him, didn’t fight with her on the things that sounded a little suspect to him, he tried his best to be everything she said she knew he could be if only he would listen to her. She was supposed to know best, right? Scott was the “bad” child. That was what he accepted to be true._

_In contrast, his little brother by five years, Shane, was about as close to an angel that a child could get. For ten years, he had been the happiest little boy in the world, a shining light in the Madej household. He was so polite and kind, speaking to anyone in a friendly manner even if that person was a bird or a caterpillar he saw outside. And he was so smart, _so_ smart, he’d been the first to learn to read in his kindergarten class and hadn’t stopped, going through several books each week. All of the teachers at school loved him and expressed what a delight he was to have in their classes, partially because he always finished his work first and quietly read instead of disrupting anyone else in the meantime. He did the dishes without being asked and set the table for dinner every night while their mother cooked in the kitchen, plus his room was almost always tidy. Scott couldn’t imagine a better kid. He wasn’t jealous of him, he wished he could be more like him. _

_~Age 10~_

_When Scott was fifteen and Shane was newly ten, their mother had called Shane lazy for the first time, much to both boys’ shock. The family had been in some godforsaken place out in the country, moving furniture out of some distant relative’s estate, and Shane had stayed in the car. He was ten, not yet hit any sort of growth spurt, and couldn’t have helped carry any of the heavy furniture no matter how much he’d wanted to. He wanted to stay out of the way, and he was three quarters of the way through the latest book he’d checked out from the school’s library, so he was perfectly content sitting in the car with the windows down._

_It was hot, right in the middle of summer, and everyone else was miserable from the work and the heat. They’d been moving old dusty vanities and oak end tables for two hours. Scott was tired, but this was a task that needed to be done and it wasn’t going to be done if he just refused to continue, plus mom would yell at him, so he pressed on and tried to work faster. At some point, mom had dropped her end of the couch they were carrying out the doorway of the house and stormed over to the car, eyes hard, even the way she was holding herself sent warnings up Scott’s spine._

_She’d yanked the back door of the car open, almost causing poor Shane to fall out where he’d been leaning against it to read, and started ranting at him as Scott watched in confusion and alarm, torn between wanting to go help his brother and being afraid of what would happen to him if he did. Their dad just watched tiredly, making no move to calm down his wife, and this noninvolvement would later grow to be the one thing Scott resented about his father._

_“What? Do you think you don’t have to help your family do work?” Mom was berating, voice escalating, and even from this far away Scott could see the fear on Shane’s face._

_“No?” Shane asked, tiny voice sounding unsure and hesitant, and Scott knew immediately that was the wrong answer. Shane didn’t know, he hadn’t had to deal with this from mom before, but god if Scott didn’t wish he knew how to handle her._

_“No?” Mom repeated, incredulously. “You think you don’t have to?”_

_“That’s not what I-“ Shane tried to explain but mom was just talking over him._

_“You’re an adult now, Shane! You have to start acting like it. You’re not a little kid anymore, you have responsibilities now and part of that is doing manual labor like the rest of us! I don’t know who raised you to be so fucking lazy but it sure wasn’t me.”_

_Scott would never claim to be able to understand any sort of “logic” his mother used to justify her anger at them. Of course Shane was a little kid, he was only ten, _barely_ ten, and wasn’t even in middle school yet. He was nowhere close to being an adult, let alone strong enough to help with this chore either. He wasn’t lazy by any stretch of the word either. Scott kept his mouth shut and wished his brother would too. _

_“I didn’t know I was supposed to help. I’m sorry, mom.” Shane apologized quietly, terrified tears falling down his face, and Scott could see mom scowling at him._

_“Then act like it.” She spit, grabbing Shane by the arm and dragging him out of the car before shoving him in the direction of the house._

_The stricken look on his face was the last straw for Scott, who dropped his end of the couch and hurried to his brother after he was sure their mother had stormed back into the house. He got down on his knees so they would be closer to the same height so he could better envelope him in a hug. Shane immediately buried his face in Scott’s shoulder as he tried to make his crying quieter._

_“She didn’t mean it, Shane, she’s just tired from working,” Scott whispered to him, rubbing his back, and he hated himself for justifying her treatment of him. “You’re not lazy or anything like that, you’re just a kid. You’re the most hardworking kid I know, too, don’t listen to her.”_

_Shane pulled back from him and rubbed the tears out of his eyes as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Scott knew he was scared and confused but his little brother was trying his best to calm himself down so he could do what he was told. That’s who Shane was when he was small, he followed instructions, any instructions given to him by an adult. Even though he’d just been screamed at and shoved, he was still trying to do what he’d been told._

_“Can you show me what I can help with?” Shane asked quietly, stepping out of the protective circle of Scott’s arms, and Scott closed his eyes for a second as it dawned on him that his brother didn’t know yet to question the treatment he’d just experienced. It was Mom, of course he would listen to her, no questions asked even if he didn’t understand. Scott had been like that when it started too._

_“Yeah, bud, I could but listen for a second,” Scott gently tugged on the back of his shirt before he could start walking towards the house and Shane turned back around to face him. “You don’t have to help, okay? We’re almost done, you could go back to your book if you wanted. Like I said, you’re really too little to be carrying furniture yet.”_

_Shane just shook his head, determination set in his young face, and Scott knew he wasn’t going to back down. It was an order, yes, but it was also a challenge because Scott had made the mistake of saying that he was too small to be helping. Shane Madej was nothing if not defiant when someone told him he wasn’t able to do things just because he was a child._

_Scott followed close behind him when he made his way into the quickly darkening house, mindful of listening to what part of it their mother was in, and handed him small things to carry out like books and little knickknack type objects. At least this way maybe their mother would be happy he was doing what she wanted and she’d leave him alone. Scott could only hope, for Shane’s sake._

_After that, Scott had noticed his brother getting quieter._

_~Age 12~_

_Two years after that, Scott still hadn’t been able to stand up to their nightmare of a mother for attacking Shane constantly. Shane had turned into almost a shadow of the kid he’d been. As if the constant criticism at home wasn’t enough, Scott had had it on good authority that his brother was being bullied at school too. It had started the first week he’d been in the middle school, some obnoxious boy had started making fun of him for having a notebook (and matching pencils and pencil case) that had his favorite musician on it. How dare Shane express his interests in such a quietly visible way, the horror. Needless to say, Scott spent his own first week of high school running up the road to the middle school so he could sit with his brother during lunch and intimidate anyone with ill intentions from coming near him. The school supplies, that Shane had been so excited to have found at the dollar store and so proud to be able to display something he loved, stayed in his backpack for the rest of the year. Scott knew he liked it too much to actually get rid of it, but he felt too ashamed of it to use in class like he should’ve been able to._

_That was the first big indicator to the Madej brothers that kids Shane’s age regarded him as something separate and neither of them could quite figure out why. Scott was of the opinion that it was because Shane had always refused to be mean to others just to gain acceptance into certain friend groups, but Shane told him he just felt like everyone could see something was wrong with him except him. Scott had quickly shot down that idea, but he didn’t know if Shane believed him, especially as time wore on and it just continued like that. Nobody ever talked to Shane out of genuine interest in friendship, it was always because Shane was too nice (and frankly, too lonely) to turn away people even if they were only using him for either his intelligence or his sympathetic nature._

_After putting up with all of this for two years, something had to give. And it did._

_The day it had happened, it was just a normal school day for Scott and, unfortunately, for Shane too. After it had happened, Shane had told him that he’d spent the entire day worrying about one of the girls hanging around him at the time (Scott didn’t dignify the leeches with the title of “friend”, not even to Shane’s face) and trying to solve her life problems in between doing his actual schoolwork and trying to keep himself out of sight and mind for mostly everyone he had to face on a day to day basis. The girl, Scott thought maybe her name had been Alex?, was dealing with some heavy stuff that she shouldn’t have had to, granted, but also his twelve year old little brother certainly wasn’t qualified to handle either._

_With tears making his eyes shine, Shane had recounted vague details about Alex’s situation. Apparently the poor girl was dealing with a predatory older man and her own negligent mother that resulted in her self harm. Scott had asked why they hadn’t told an adult about it, like a teacher or the guidance counselor so that CPS or the cops could become involved, but Shane had tended up at the suggestion. Scott knew that the two of them were keeping parental abuse secret, knew that was probably where Shane’s reluctance (and Alex’s too) came from to actually involve someone who could help, but it was still really sad to be faced with from the view of an outsider. Scott had urged him to convince Alex to get an authority figure involved, but Shane said she said this guy “loved” her and that was a major red flag. Scott would’ve called the cops himself on this pedophile situation but Shane wouldn’t give him Alex’s information and didn’t know anything about the 20 year old she was “dating”._

_On top of trying to figure out that situation on his own, Shane had four tests in all different subjects on the following Thursday and he was stressing over that as well. It wasn’t surprising that he’d come home from school that day and promptly had a minor meltdown in the shower a couple of hours later. It was, unfortunately, just his luck that their mother had heard him crying in the bathroom and took it upon herself to investigate. In a truly rare moment of vulnerability, Shane had poured his little heart out to her, confessing his anxieties and conflicting thoughts over Alex’s situation, his frustration at not knowing if he was going to be able to study enough to get As on all of his tests, and his never ending confusion as to why nobody ever wanted to be friends with him or even just talk to him at school. He’d wisely had the presence of mind to leave out any thoughts on her constant issues with his “flaws” which had to grind on his self esteem._

_Shane had been exhausted from crying and expressing so much by the time his mother had stopped interrogating him and allowed him to get out of the shower and go back to his room. On his way back down the ball, he’d stopped at Scott’s door and quietly asked if Scott would lay with him until he fell asleep. He was so tired but he didn’t really want to be alone right then, still feeling raw and upset. Scott had followed him to his room and laid down beside him, both to provide him with a comforting presence and to better keep an eye out for their mother. She didn’t need to take advantage of his emotional state anymore that night._

_That particular episode had ended, not with their mother being a comforting parent and trying to calm down her young son, but with her deciding the way to handle this was to force Shane into attending therapy by himself at the age of 12 despite his visible fear to the idea and continual panic attacks on the car ride there for the three times she forced him to go before finally deciding he’d “learned his lesson” or whatever and the therapy trips stopped._

_To this day, Shane was afraid of hospitals and even more of what it would mean to admit he had mental health issues, the horrifying idea of forced institutionalization (read: abandonment in a hospital forever) ingrained in him by her constantly threatening it whenever he showed even a trace of an anxiety attack. Scott could tell she only did that because it was annoying for her to have to “deal” with Shane when he was panicking. Despite his ever-increasing desire to just take Shane far away from here and never come back, being only seventeen himself be damned, Scott simply would silently grabbed his brother’s hand and place it on his chest, guiding him to copy his breathing and calm himself down before he worked himself up too much._

_~Age 17~_

_Scott wasn’t actually there the first time Shane had ever fainted from not eating enough, but he’d been called immediately after. Scott’s college had let out a week before Shane’s high school for winter break, so thank god he was home and close to the school._

_It was during track practice and Shane had, according to his coach, been running a bit slower than normal despite looking like he was trying his hardest. He was in the middle of a lap when he just collapsed on the asphalt, causing other students to just narrowly miss tripping over him. He’d only been out for a few minutes, but he’d fallen pretty much face first and gotten a bloody nose out of it. The coach was puzzled, but chalked it up to possibly Shane being ill and still coming to practice despite that because he was such a dedicated student and athlete. Scott was listed as Shane’s contact on the emergency form the school had students fill out at the beginning of every school year, mostly because they both knew mom would throw a fit if she ever had to disrupt her own work day to come deal with it if anything happened, and Scott had frankly never been more grateful for the universe aligning so well in their favor._

_He’d broke at least one speeding law on the way to the school, going 55 in the school zone alone, and had ran through the building to the nurse’s office where the coach had brought his brother. Shane had been sitting on the exam table, holding a washcloth to his nose, looking pale and ashamed. When he’d asked, Shane had claimed he didn’t know why he’d passed out like that, suggested maybe he’d gotten too hot running, and Scott hadn’t bothered to point out that they’d been running indoors because it was early November and he was still wearing the same short uniform he always ran in. He’d taken him home and by the time their parents got home from work a couple of hours afterwards, Shane’s nose had stopped bleeding. Neither brother mentioned the incident to them._

_Scott couldn’t say anything when Shane quietly excused himself from dinner that evening without even pretending to eat any of it with the feeble excuse of needing to finish his homework and wanting to get to bed straight after. He did, however, notice Shane breaking his own unspoken rule of avoiding breakfast the next morning. He ate one single package of instant oatmeal before he rushed off to school, even slipping a granola bar in his backpack which Scott really hoped he would eat in addition to lunch. That was the only indication Shane gave that his fainting spell had actually concerned him enough to try and prevent it from happening again._

_After that, Shane seemed to eat more frequently on days he had track practice, at least from what Scott could see._

_~Age 18-21~_

_Shane hadn’t had the idea to move out to California by himself on his own. He’d never seriously actually thought of leaving Illinois, to be honest. His parents were here, his grandparents were here, what was he going to do somewhere else? His family members were getting older all the time and he was broke, he probably couldn’t afford the gas to come home if something happened to one of them, let alone a plane ticket. He’d just figured he would stay close until something happened to everyone and then he could go wherever he wanted. That sounded awful, he didn’t want anything to happen to his family, but the passage of time takes its toll on all those who live within its constraints. So while he’d vaguely wished he could go far away, it was never anything he seriously thought he’d be able to do. Until Scott brought it up and well, anything seemed possible when Scott said it was._

_“I mean, obviously I’m going to college, but I wish the ones in state had more...appealing majors?” Shane said, though phrased it more as a question because he didn’t really know how to explain his disdain for the bland majors every single college in Illinois had on offer. They weren’t bad majors, necessarily, it was just that none of them really seemed like something he could imagine himself having a future in or even just enjoying learning about the topics within those fields._

_Business, while likely to bring in a large income in his future, sounded just about like the most boring thing he could imagine. Plus the classes listed for that major included at least one or two just for “management” which basically boiled down to learning how to trick coworkers into doing teamwork activities nobody would care about and pretending you were not aware you made more money than the employees under you probably ever would. Yeah, Shane couldn’t see himself being such a heartless capitalist like that. He hated the capitalist society he lived in and unfortunately, living in it meant he had to participate at least to a certain extent to have a decent life with the basic necessities and such. That didn’t extend to needing to actively keep others fighting for survival because greed consumed you. Majoring in business was a solid no from Shane._

_The only thing that sounded like he could find joy in the profession would be to major in education so he could be a teacher, but there was that pesky capitalism issue again. Teachers have always been undervalued and underpaid. Shane wouldn’t have minded not getting any glory from teaching, being of the mind that fostering into young students his same craving for knowledge would be rewarding enough in and of itself, but the pay was an issue. He knew that some districts paid their teachers $30k or less, which he knew wasn’t even close to enough to live without stressing out from living paycheck to paycheck to make ends meet. In an ideal world though, he could be a history teacher._

_He’d even weighed the pros and cons between teaching elementary, middle, and high school. High school, while allowing the ability to teach more complex topics, was immediately ruled out because Shane had just spent four years being in high school and he knew what high school kids were like. Most of them were not what he would call eager to learn in the slightest and he knew he’d probably feel worthless teaching a bunch of kids who weren’t even pretending to be paying attention._

_Elementary school was a good age group, he thought, the kids were still young enough to be able to introduce a lifelong thirst for learning and curiosity in them, and it wouldn’t be difficult assignments for him to plan and grade. It would mean he could only tackle things in their most simplest forms and maybe he would quickly tire of planning out enough activities to keep the kids occupied and on task. He’d read somewhere that you have to introduce a new activity every twenty minutes or so to ensure they stayed focused on the lesson. He didn’t know if he was creative enough for that._

_That had led to the conclusion that he’d have to teach middle school. His own middle school memories were some of his worst, if he was being honest, considering his brain started working against him right around them but that probably wasn’t a universal experience. The middle schoolers he’d theoretically be teaching would just be the normal kind, not the Shane kind, who had their own challenges like being obnoxious to make their friends laugh in class and things of that caliber. He could deal with that, he guessed. He could probably have some of them learn to appreciate learning as a fun pastime, even if they had hated it before, but he knew that would depend on how good of a teacher he was. A big part of teaching was the actual lessons but another, to a certain extent, was charming the kids into liking you enough to listen to you and your lessons. Shane didn’t know if he would have been able to pull that off. He couldn’t get his own mother to listen to him, how could he ever expect hundreds of tweens to?_

_It was all hypothetical. Shane was never going to be a teacher because education was always going to be underfunded. That was that._

_That still left him with plenty of options, but none that sparked his interest. Besides history, he was really into movies and the technicalities that went into making them the way they eventually were presented to audiences. He could write pages and pages of analysis on framing and lighting, on the color palettes and music cues for certain characters as symbols for motivations, and ramble for ages about visual storytelling through parallels and repetition of object association. He hadn’t been able to find any statistics on the income expectancy for people working in film, but since it was so technically involved he would assume it was a good amount of money. None of the colleges in Illinois offered anything pertaining to movies or moviemaking though, so that was out too._

_The fall of his senior year of high school was not the ideal time to be choosing what he was going to be doing for the next four years of his education, but here he was. Shane hadn’t thought he’d live to see high school graduation, hell he hadn’t thought he’d live to see high school period at one point, so he hadn’t exactly made any plans for the future. He’d thought he would kill himself by this point but he was too much of a coward to actually do it, so now he guessed he would keep on following all the major life milestones as he came to them. Next stop, graduation and then on to college. First though, he had to get through this dilemma of choosing a college to enroll in and picking a major to start with, his current crisis. Lucky for him, he had an older brother to help him who had just gotten out of college the year before._

_“Have you looked at any of the schools out of state? I know your guidance counselor has pamphlets in her office for colleges all across the country,” Scott volunteered and Shane furrowed his brow at him. No, he hadn’t. He’d resigned himself to probably going to the school Scott had gone to and living with a degree in something he at best felt indifference towards. It hadn’t ever crossed his mind to even glance at those pamphlets the handful of times he’d been in the counselor’s office. He tended to avoid that place at all costs, too many questions would come from the counselor that he was never going to be comfortable answering._

_“I can’t go out of state, dude.” Shane stated, scanning one of the booklets from the college fair for the tenth time to read through their majors list again. Maybe this time he’d magically find a subject that called to him._

_“And why not? I know we don’t have a bunch of money and it’s cheaper in state but I don’t think you have to worry on that front. You’ve got the grades for it, any school would be crazy not to offer you their top scholarships. You could probably even get a full ride if you want to keep doing track, you know?” Scott pointed out, watching him with a look of genuine surprise on his face that Shane couldn’t decipher the meaning behind. Why this seemed to be big news to Scott that he wasn’t thinking about leaving Illinois for college was a mystery to him. It was common sense._

_“What about mom and dad? What if something happens and I can’t get back?” Shane returned by way of explanation. He didn’t know why he had such anxiety about it. His family members were in generally good health, but life was a tricky thing. Anything could happen at a moment’s notice. He didn’t think it was a crime to not want to lose the people he loved. He could never forgive himself if one of them died and he wasn’t able to be with them when it happened._

_“Shane, mom and dad are fine. They’re getting older, yes, but they’ve never had a big health problem that we know of. Nothing major is going to happen while you’re at school and even if it did, I’ll make sure you can come home. The worry over a what if shouldn’t stop you from doing something you want to do.” There was conviction in Scott’s voice, that sureness that usually won Shane over when he was indecisive on things, but it wasn’t quite convincing enough right now. Shane wasn’t ready for it to be convincing enough right now._

_“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Cheaper to go to school here and stay close if anything happens,” Shane sighed, mind made up. He was staying in Illinois, at least until he could get through college. He didn’t have to decide his major right now, wouldn’t be required to declare it until sophomore year, so maybe he could just do his general requirements and see if someone brought in a film program by the time that was finished. He could hope that, even if it was pretty unlikely._

_“You need to go out of state, regardless of those things, man.” Scott’s tone was entirely serious and Shane finally abandoned looking at the college pamphlets so he could shoot his brother a confused look._

_“You need to get out for you. You told me once that I had escaped because I went to college, but I went to college just a couple hours from here. That wasn’t much of an escape. Mom still belittles me every time the mood strikes her, still makes sure I know how grateful I should be that she “really” never hit us.” Scott’s voice had lowered, like he thought their mother would be listening, even though she wasn’t home. “Remember how she helpfully got me a job with one of her friends? That friend tells her every single thing I do, like a spy or some shit. I certainly haven’t escaped her.”_

_“And you didn’t believe it when she said she was watching us at school!” Shane couldn’t help but point out, feeling a just a little bit of victory at being right instead of Scott, though it was still terrifying to realize their mother’s threats of surveillance had been quite literal. Sometimes she said shit like that to make them paranoid and sometimes she meant it, but they could never be sure which statements were which._

_In truth, Scott had known. He’d caught nearly three different adults trailing he and Shane while at school that he would later recognize at various social functions his mother attended. He’d wanted to keep it secret from his brother though, not wanting him to have to moderate and think twice about every single thing he did while he roamed around a building that was supposed to be free of her critical eye._

_“You have to get out of here, Shane. I’m not fucking around, she isn’t good for either of us.” Scott repeated and he could see the indecision in Shane’s eyes. He knew this wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, but they’d already been fucked up enough. He wanted Shane to get away from her so that he could begin to heal from it. The haunted look seemingly permanently fixed to his features shouldn’t exist on someone so young and Scott could only hope that it would disappear with time and distance._

_“But I love her, she’s the one who raised us and gave us a roof over our heads,” Shane protested, reciting almost verbatim one of their mother’s favorite guilt lines, and Scott felt immeasurable sadness._

_Shane knew how badly they were treated, but she’d drilled it into them that they should fucking thank her for doing the bare minimum required parenting. She’d given birth to them, sure, but their dad had raised Scott and Scott, for the most part, had raised Shane. Most of her contributions to their lives had been based on lowering both of their senses of self worth and happiness, the way Scott saw it. He was reminded of it every time he looked at his little brother with his sharp collarbones and hollow eyes._

_“You moving away wouldn’t mean you didn’t still love her, Shane. It just means you recognize that you need to put yourself above her, for once.” Scott explained softly and Shane looked away from him, eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to find the “right” answer here. On one hand, he didn’t want to leave his family, including his mother, for any reason. But on the other, Scott was right. She wasn’t making his life better and likely was actively making it worse._

_“I’m not ready to just leave everyone, Scott. I’m not ready to leave you or dad or anyone else behind,” Shane said, resignation in his voice, but this was the choice he had settled on living with. He didn’t know if he could ever leave, didn’t want to face a life where his family wasn’t at least within driving distance. He was only eighteen and it wasn’t like he had any friends to rely on. His family was all he had. He didn’t want to just abandon them like that, that would be selfish. He could deal with his mother, just like he always had._

_“I just want you to finally be safe, Shane.” Scott admitted, nearly a whisper, and Shane felt awful for making Scott sound so devastated._

_“I’m fine.” He said to end the conversation and gathered up the various pages of college advertisements he’d laid out on the table between them. As he walked away, he pretended not to notice the grave look on his brother’s face._

_Shane had used to think Scott was always right when he said that what their mother said was incorrect, but in the last few years he’d come to see that she was actually right a lot, especially about the things she said about him. He was lazy. He was fat. He was worthless. What kind of teenager can’t even make a decent couple of friends? She was right to criticize him, he had a lot of flaws that needed to be pointed out so he could maybe work to correct them. After all, she’d been right about how fat he was and now he was working towards fixing that, even though he still had a ways to go yet._

_He ended up going to college within the state, even when he’d switched to a different one after doing his general requirements, and only finally moved to California after Scott had asked, no pleaded, with him to do so during one of their mother’s rants against him at a family dinner. She’d heard and borderline demanded that he do it (Shane didn’t like to think about how she’d phrased it - “Go on, see how long you last out there on your own. You don’t have the skills to be an adult in the real world.”) and he had._

_All things considered, it had been a good choice overall._

_~Age 22~_

_Scott was so glad that his brother had finally escaped their mother’s influence, even happier because she really didn’t make the effort to call him that often and definitely not to see him after the move, but he himself still had to stay close to home, under her control. It was stupid to think that at 27, he was working in a business where his employer reported his movements to his mother at random intervals and he was lectured about it via phone (or in person if it was the day of the week he visited his parents) but, not even Scott had been able to sense that trap before he’d walked right into it. As it stood, he didn’t have the means to move anywhere else, having given Shane a large portion of his savings so he could go as far as California, and he wasn’t yet sure which business his shitty employer didn’t have connections with._

_At least Shane was across the country and vaguely safer than he had been in a decade. Safe from outside forces mostly, but still._

_Scott talked to Shane every couple of days on the phone and they texted pretty much everyday on and off, neither brother wanting to lose touch with the only good constant in their lives, and occasionally Scott could scrape up enough to fly out for a visit. This constant contact was a way to make sure Shane was 1) still breathing and 2) taking okay care of himself at the very least._

_He knew via phone wasn’t the ideal or most effective way to help his brother deal with his eating disorder, but he didn’t have the option of physically being there for him often. He tried his best with what he had. Scott would sometimes casually work in conversation things related to meals or food in general (“What are you doing for dinner this evening, it’s about that time there, right?”) and remind him to eat when Shane was explaining a big project he was elbows deep in working on. Scott knew his brother didn’t skip out on eating intentionally 100% of the time, and though it hurt him to think it, he knew Shane was so used to doing so that he didn’t even think about it when he got really busy. Besides, talking to each other every day helped both brothers feel less alone._

_On one of these rare visits, Scott had decided to surprise his brother and accordingly, hadn’t informed him that he was flying out for the weekend. It just so happened that Shane wasn’t even at his apartment when Scott arrived, his plane having left earlier than scheduled, so Shane was still at work when he got in. Scott let himself into the apartment with the spare key Shane had given him upon his first visit, anticipating occasions such as these, and resolved to amuse himself until his brother got home._

_Unfortunately for both of them, Scott was bored easily, especially in a quiet and empty apartment. He’d entertained himself with scrolling through his various apps and replying to several texts and such for about half an hour before he wanted to change activities. Shane wasn’t due off work for another forty five minutes and then would have to commute another twenty just to get home, so that left Scott with over an hour of waiting._

_Forgive him for being slightly nosy, but Shane had stopped journaling when he was eleven because mom had found his notebook and confiscated it after he’d vented his private frustrations with her nit picky rules and constant arguments in it. She’d only known because she’d snoop through their belongings when they were at school sometimes, off on some unfounded suspicion or another. He’d only picked it up again at fifteen, strictly to record calories and exercise times, as a way to “keep track” he’d said, but Scott had thought he’d stopped doing it before he’d moved out here. To see the black hardcover sitting on top of the kitchen counter so innocuously gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d thought Shane was doing better for the past couple of years, naively thought that being away from their mother would give him the environment he needed to rebuild his comfort with his appearance._

_Upon opening the book, those hopes were dashed. The way Shane had consistently formatted his food journals, the date on one line followed by each meal and what he ate as well as the calorie count which was then followed by skipping a line to record his exercise routine and time spent on it for the day, stared up at him from the random page he’d flipped to. Even worse, half of the days on the page either had nothing written next to each meal or just had one meal (usually dinner) with an alarmingly low calorie count listed next to it. Even on the days where he apparently wasn’t eating anything, Shane was still exercising for an hour at the least, but many dates listed more than two hours._

_Scott flipped to the most recent page, the one with that day’s date written on it, and found that his brother hadn’t eaten anything for two days. Given that he had been at work all day, he hadn’t written anything for today either but Scott had a feeling he wasn’t going to eat today either if the pattern he’d observed from a few pages back still held. That just wasn’t going to happen right in front of his eyes though, not this time. Scott had been helpless to convince Shane to eat in the past, but he wasn’t going to just let him Not eat now. He’d taken two days off from work, plus he had the entire weekend before he had to fly back to Chicago. He was going to make sure Shane ate at least once a day for the next four days. It wasn’t healthy for him to starve himself like this, nor would it be even if he had a significant amount of weight to lose, and Scott was through enabling it._

_He closed the book and carefully made sure it was in the exact same position as he’d found it before he went back to the living room to resume waiting. While he’d been in the kitchen, Shane’s lovely boy Obi had emerged from wherever he’d been hidden and jumped up to nap on the back of the couch. Scott gently scratched his little head before sitting down and pulling out his phone. As much as he hated the low amounts Shane had been eating, he thought it was probably easier for his brother to eat that amount for now and work on building it up to more later. Scott googled restaurants nearby that served the kind of food that Shane liked and had apparently decided was “safe” to eat, since they were the few that stuck around that he’d eat consistently, opening several in different tabs before finding the menus and nutritional information for each. He found several options available at each restaurant that were both foods Shane would eat and were within the calorie range he’d been recording in the book._

_When Shane finally got him, instantly perking up at the sight of his older brother sitting in his living room, Scott acted none the wiser. That evening, he did convince him that they should go out to one of the restaurants for dinner and Scott was proud to see Shane eat most of the plate he ordered. They went out two other times while he was visiting, both in the evening as Shane was constantly “busy” during lunch and had been going running early in the morning (Scott suspected purely to “miss” breakfast since the book had said Shane usually worked out in the evening time), and they’d even cooked something together once for dinner. It was a good visit, made all the better by the relief Scott felt in knowing he’d made sure Shane ate for four days in a row._

_Before going back to Illinois, Scott had knocked on the door of Shane’s landlady, a kindly grey haired woman named Mrs. Davis who gave off warm grandmotherly vibes. He kindly asked her if she would visit with Shane every now and again, maybe share anything she baked with him if she ever made too much for just herself, and she had readily agreed._

_“Shane is a lovely young man, very polite! Of course I wouldn’t mind, my own grandchildren don’t have much time to visit me anymore since growing up. Hopefully he won’t mind if I ask him to keep an old woman company sometimes?” She had asked and Scott assured her he didn’t think his brother would mind at all._

_The entire flight home, Scott could only hope that Mrs. Davis providing some more human interaction would be helpful in getting his brother out of the isolation he’d found himself in by moving to a new city without much desire to develop his social skills. He also hoped, perhaps in vain, that if nothing else, Mrs. Davis’ random treats would feed Shane on days when he was trying to skip eating altogether._

_Scott wished he could do more, but he would have to settle for that right now._

_~Age 27~_

_Getting hired at Buzzfeed had been a great boost for Shane’s career (and not to mention his wallet). Scott was relieved at the ability to see actual footage of his brother, real tangible proof that he had to be eating semi regularly, from time to time when he began to be featured in their YouTube videos._

_From their conversations about it, though, Shane sounded like he was approaching it the same way he had everything else in life up until now: with minimal enthusiasm and an air of resignation for imminent disappointment. He was aware that the financial boost was good and the promise of health benefits later on was too, but to him, this was just another job. He hadn’t quite been able to feel passionate for the work they had him doing, he wasn’t allowed to create his own content until he’d moved up a little, so they just had him doing grunt work. He brought people coffee and cleared sets of people not supposed to be in the videos and delivered mail around the office sometimes. Nothing exciting and certainly nothing that inspired him much. He needed the money to keep his apartment and other necessities though, as dictated by the capitalist hellscape they lived in, and that seemed to be the only thing keeping him waking up to go into work everyday._

_But one day, Shane had called Scott in a rush of confusion and low key excitement as he told hi about some kid that had been hanging around him all week._

_“He even stays behind to sit with me when everyone clears out for lunch, Scott, isn’t that strange? What have I ever had to offer this guy?” Shane asked, for the third time in the last twenty minutes, and Scott desperately wished people had been kinder to him when they’d been in school._

_“I told you, man. He wants to get to know you. You don’t have to have anything to offer him except your personality and friendship.”_

_“Why would he want to be friends with me? I’d never even spoken to him until he started sitting beside me last week!”_

_“You’re very charming, Shane. Anyone would be lucky to be friends with you. I, for one, can think of one hundred and fifty three reasons you’re an interesting guy to befriend.” Scott stated and heard his brother scoff on the other end of the line. “Come on, I’m serious.”_

_“You have to say that, we’re related.” Shane argues and Scott didn’t have the heart to point out that being related had demonstrably never been cause for flattery in their household._

_“It sounds to me like this guy isn’t gonna give up on getting to know you, so you might as well try to get to know him in return. I don’t think he wants anything from you besides that, Shane. If he does, tell him I’ll kick his ass.”_

_“Yeah, I’m sure that will go really well. I think he likes movies? Maybe I’ll ask him to come over so that I can see how he acts with me outside of the office setting. Maybe it’ll be easier to talk to him if we have something to do?” Shane suggested and frankly, Scott was really proud that he was willing to do all of that. He was pretty sure he’d been the only person to set foot in Shane apartment since he got it besides the landlady. This Ryan seemed to be having quite the effect already._

_“That sounds like a fantastic idea, Shane. I’m sure he’d love that,” Scott encouraged._

_Shane had hung up with that plan in his mind, determined to carry it out the following Friday. Scott had received a selfie of Shane and who he could only assume to be this mystery Ryan on Friday night, both grinning from ear to ear._

_After Shane had started being friends with Ryan Bergara, Scott could swear some of the light that had been missing from his eyes since he was ten years old was suddenly restored._


	9. Just a status update note thing, sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t an actual chapter and I apologize

Hey, long time no see! I know it’s been actual months and I swear I’ve been working on this fic in the few seconds of downtime I have but this semester of college is killing me and I lowkey don’t have time to breathe in between assignments and readings, honestly. I’ve written parts of this chapter about five different ways five different times and currently it’s going in a direction I don’t think y’all are gonna be expecting so whenever I do get the chance to finish it and post, look out. I just wanted to give you all an explanation and an apology because I think I said last chapter I’d try to update in like two weeks and it’s been months now. I haven’t forgotten about this fic, or you lovely people who read it, and I felt like I owe you, at the very least, this small note as explanation for the radio silence. 

This semester ends in November so if I don’t get a break before, I’ll post then.

Stay safe x


	10. we should quit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no see! I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to post (and also very sorry this is literally less than half of the usual chapter length) but I had school until the end of November and then family issues for all of December and shitty mental health/ED stuff of my own to struggle with in the meantime. I’m okay, don’t worry, but it all impacted my ability to work on this and I’m really sorry about that. Rest assured that I don’t plan on abandoning this fic or anything any time soon though! I’ll try to get out a better chapter in a more timely manner next time.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)
> 
> Title taken from Hozier’s “Sedated”   
> I might stop using exclusively Hozier lyrics for chapter titles from here on, thoughts?

The panic is muted, definitely there but distant like hearing speech while underwater. Shane feels numb, not even the pain in his broken wrist registering, going through the motions of the examination-to-admission pipeline without reaction to any of it.

Doctors and nurses talk at him, he’s guided through the halls to different sections of the hospital before finally ending up on a bed, but he doesn’t really feel like any of it is happening to him. It’s almost like being in a dream, he’s there but he’s not really. He answers their questions with single words or silent nods, knowing only what he’s agreeing to for a moment before it’s lost to him, until he’s as he’s meant to be. Alone.

_ We have determined you to be a danger to yourself, Mr. Madej. We’re admitting you under an involuntary psych hold. _

He’d heard his fate and shut down. His mother had always said he’d end up locked away on a mental ward and here he was. Maybe it was better that he was here. He wouldn’t be burdening his brother now, at least. He wouldn’t have to deal with Steven, or explaining Ryan’s absence in their life, or with coping with trying to figure out just what had burned his marriage to the ground. He couldn’t ruin anything else if he was locked away from all of the people he loved. 

The panic thrumming just under his skin was at the knowledge that this was a direct result of trying to explain about his body, about being half out of it with pain and hunger that he’d admitted to not eating like a real person should. Snatches of text from the forums he’s frequented where people detailed their parents forcing them into the hospital, horror stories of calories being forced into their systems through a feeding tube, of weight gain against their will. The knowledge that that was probably going to happen to him here.

The hospital room is quiet and dark and he is  _ so tired _ . His exhausted brain is cruel and wants him to think about Ryan’s sweet smile and worried eyes, a punishment for all of his mistakes.  _ I’m sorry, Ry _ , he thinks desperately as consciousness starts to leave him and he almost hopes Ryan will hear him wherever he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scott hadn’t said anything else and the line went dead before Ryan could even think of a coherent response to the cold declaration. 

An hour after he’d hung up on Ryan, Scott was still sitting in the hospital waiting room. When the nurse that had called Shane’s name had come to inform him that Shane was going to be admitted for three days, the nurse had stressed that that was the very least amount of time he’d be kept, he’d also told him nobody was allowed in to visit and no belongings that weren’t on Shane’s person at the time of admittance could be brought in to him. Both of these were circumstances brought about in the effort to keep outside exposure from the raging pandemic to a minimum, and Scott was happy the hospital was very diligent, but he regretted that Shane didn’t even have his phone on him. That meant he had no connection to the outside world at all, and Scott didn’t have any connection to him, and he knew his brother would be off the wall without something to distract him. Music, something to read, someway to research, Shane would do anything to keep his mind focused on anything but a situation he hated (and frankly, feared). 

He just prayed Shane would benefit from this, despite it being forced upon him. He hoped he would forgive him his role in landing him here, it’s not like Scott hadn’t foreseen this coming. Anyone looking at Shane right now could see he needed medical attention, Scott hadn’t for a second doubted he’d be admitted especially after they’d weighed him. 

Still, he didn’t want Shane to think he’d tricked him into coming here with that purpose in mind, he was sure Shane had broken one of the bones in his wrist so that hadn’t just been a ruse. He would like to think his brother didn’t think he’d just abandon him in a hospital, but he also knew that was on the list of the few things Shane actually really feared. Between their mother’s spouting off about that happening to people who had the slightest indication of mental illness and the actual history of mental health treatment in the US, he knew Shane was convinced that that was how things still worked, no matter how much Scott had tried to show him it wasn’t, that it was alright ( safe ) to have a mental illness and seek treatment for it now. 

Scott met Ryan on the parking lot of the emergency room, having finally convinced himself it wasn’t a betrayal to leave the hospital while Shane was stuck inside somewhere, and felt the fury rise in him. He knew it wasn’t rational to be blaming Ryan, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was a big reason Shane was in the shape he was in. He hadn’t been here to help him and he hadn’t let anyone else know he needed help so how could he not be complicit in Shane’s self destruction? The nerve of him to show his face around here now.

Scott wants to deck him. He doesn’t do it, but god he wants to. The only thing that stops him is respect for his brother. Shane wouldn’t forgive him if he hurt Ryan, no matter how much he deserved it, and Scott couldn’t handle losing his brother emotionally like that. So, he doesn’t punch him out but he does send his most brutal death glare his way (and hopes the effect isn’t diminished by the mask covering the lower half of his face). He feels a small rush of victory at the uneasiness in the other man’s eyes and the hesitancy in his stance.

  
  


Ryan isn’t looking for a fight, not even remotely, he just wants to rush to Shane’s side and make sure he’s still alive. He knows he is, knows Scott wouldn’t have called him about a psych hold if not, but irrationally he’s so terrified that Shane could’ve gotten worse in the twenty minutes it took him to speed to the hospital. He’s so fucking scared for him. 

“Is Shane,” He starts and has to swallow against the despair in his throat. “Is Shane gonna be okay?” 

He wants to ask  _ Is Shane okay? _ but that answer is too obvious to even ask. 

Scott’s glare seems to sharpen at the question and Ryan doesn’t understand why, looking back at him with his own desperately pleading eyes. Emotion is running high all around and there’s too much to try and decipher without Scott’s hostility right now so instead, all Ryan’s few free thoughts can focus on is that it’s starting to rain around them. 

Scott’s jaw works beneath the mask in a way that suggests he wants to say something but he bites his tongue, turning to head towards the car. After a moment, he glances backwards and motions for Ryan to follow. Ryan trails after him, if only because he never answered his question. 

After both are in Scott’s vehicle, Ryan taking Shane’s place in the passenger seat, and Scott takes a moment to breathe out his frustration. He was royally pissed, but this wasn’t going to be a quick conversation and neither of them could help Shane if they both got pneumonia from standing in the rain like fools. 

Finally he turned to look at his brother’s husband and, at the sad look in his eyes, tried to calm some of his own furious body language. 

“Shane’s, well, I hope he’s going to be okay in the future.” He settles on, having bitten down the instinct to snap out a biting response like *Yes, no thanks to you*. It’s the most optimistic he can realistically be for right now though, they don’t know. They don’t. They can hope and wish but it could go either way at this point.

Ryan, however, looks so relieved you’d think he’d just been told Shane was the picture of health. He physically lost the tension around his shoulders at Scott’s words. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Ryan said, like it wasn’t an uncertainty to him at all, and Scott cocked an eyebrow up at it. 

“Probably,” Scott stressed. “He’s probably gonna be okay. He’s in really bad shape, Ryan.” 

Some of the tension returned to Ryan’s shoulders as the reality crushed in on him again. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what lead to Scott even bringing Shane to the hospital in the first place, if he was being honest, but he had to ask. 

“How’d you get him to come here?” He asked, not even entertaining the idea that Shane had been brought here by ambulance or something Else unbearable. If it was just a psychiatric hold, Shane had to have come here on his own two feet. Ryan needed to believe that anyway. 

“He almost passed out in the shower from the steam and broke his wrist on the way down.” Scott stated, not caring to sugarcoat it for Ryan’s sake in particular. This was his mess, he deserved to see the consequences. 

Scott hadn’t hit him, but Ryan looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Christ, he knew Shane was bad but he hadn’t actually passed out for a long while (at least to Ryan’s severely limited knowledge). Somehow this is what finally cemented the reality in Ryan’s brain that Shane was in a worse state than they’d handled before.

“From the steam?” Ryan repeated dumbly and Scott nodded once, curtly. 

“According to the Internet it’s something about the heat and humidity making it harder to breathe and get oxygen to the brain,” Scott explained and Ryan’s eyebrows drew together like he was trying to make sense of the words before he nodded. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan breathed quietly and Scott grit his teeth. 

“Yeah,” He agreed, voice tight, and the car was silent for a few moments with nothing but the raindrops pounding the windshield.

When it let up and Scott couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, he jerked around to face Ryan with his full upper half, startling the younger man who’d been staring down at his hands in thought. 

“Why the fuck did you let it get this far without telling anyone, Ryan?” Scott had meant to yell, or to voice the fury keeping his skin running hot, but his voice comes out more like he’s begging for answers to something that’s been tearing away at him. He kind of is, honestly. 

Ryan looked stricken with guilt rushing in to cloud his eyes and he dropped his gaze back down as it settled behind his ribs. 

“I thought we could handle it, I swear I was breaking speed limits to get back as soon as I could.” He confessed lowly and Scott recognizes the same love-blinded determination in the statement that he’s always felt when it comes to his little brother too. The kind that makes you think *I love you and I alone will do whatever it takes to help you*, the kind thatxrowds out any thoughts of asking anyone else to come in and offer aid, that makes you forget your family is bigger than just the two of you. Scott can forgive him that part, but not why it took so fucking long. 

“You talked to Shane every single day since March and you just noticed what, yesterday, what’s happening to him?” Scott accused and Ryan shifted his gaze lower to the ends of his jeans. They were a little damp from the parking lot trek here. 

“I didn’t notice it was so wrong so fast, I saw him everyday,” Ryan confirmed and Scott couldn’t imagine not noticing something so jarring as Shane’s deterioration. “For me, I guess the change was so gradual that it wasn’t as noticeable in the daily changes as it would be to someone who didn’t see him twice daily.” 

However much Scott found it unbelievable, Ryan’s voice had held such sincerity that he can’t bring himself to call him out on it again. At least this meant it wasn’t intentional ignorance at least.

One last thing, he had to know one last thing before he could stop this interrogation in his shitty car in the fucking storm of the year. He’s not just meaning the weather either. 

“Why did you leave him all alone without even telling anyone?” Scott asked, the unspoken *without telling me?* hangs above them and Ryan meets his eyes for the first time in the long half an hour these three questions have consumed. 

“I thought Shane would tell you I was gone,” He said and Scott felt the reminder that he was responsible for not checking on his brother more often pierce his heart. 

He doesn’t ask more questions, both of them feeling guilty for allowing Shane to get so sick when they were both supposed to watch out for him. 

“Am I allowed to see him?” Ryan broke the heavy silence that had fallen over them, tone suggesting he already knew the answer. 

“Nobody is. Hospital’s rules.” Scott chokes out and Ryan hadn’t even noticed the other man had quiet tears dampening his mask and reddening his eyes. He politely pretends he hadn’t seen. 

“Right,” He said and swallowed the disappointment he’d known was coming. 

Something seemed to occur to Scott, who suddenly straightened in his seat and turned to again face Ryan. 

“I don’t know if Shane would let you in to see him if you were allowed,” He started and Ryan’s heart dropped. Was this the confirmation that his earlier fears of being left were actually true? 

“Why not?” Ryan asked timidly, nearly afraid of the answer and Scott looks genuinely perplexed at his confusion before he seemed to remember some other unknown pieces of a puzzle Ryan has no knowledge of. 

“Dude. He thinks you ran off to Arizona to have a life without him in it. He thought you abandoned him.” Scott said like it should be obvious, anger seeping back into his bones at the memory of Shane sobbing on his couch a few hours ago, agonizing over having been seemingly broken up with without even a text of notice.

To his credit, Ryan recoiled at the very notion.

“I would never do that to him. I’d never leave him but especially not like that,” Ryan said, hurt evident in his tone, and Scott believed he was sincere. He didn’t know if Ryan would  _ never  _ leave, but he believed he thought he wouldn’t. 

“I told Shane that. He’s not really in the right frame of mind to logic things out without some help right now,” Scott explained, watching Ryan’s jaw tighten behind the mask at the reminder of his husband’s mental state. He didn’t add that perhaps Shane wouldn’t need help finding rational explanations to things if only someone would have explained something to him before questionable posts were made. “My brother has a great deal of trust in you, something that is very rare for him, and it really freaked him out to see you somewhere you weren’t really supposed to be, man.”

“I understand that,” Ryan agreed, recalling the early days of their friendship when Shane had admitted he was the first person other than Scott who’d ever been in his apartment because he didn’t have friends despite working at the same place for months. “Wait, how would he have known I was driving through Arizona?” 

“Social media. Someone on your team posted a picture with you in it and tagged the location. Shane was worried when he couldn’t get ahold of you earlier and he was trying to see if any of the crew had posted anything.” Scott recounted as realization dawned on his brother-in-law. 

“I didn’t even think to tell him I was coming home, I was so focused on getting here.” Ryan said quietly, briefly entertaining the idea that Shane wouldn’t be in the hospital right now if the chain of events that led to him going to Scott’s wouldn’t have happened. He wasn’t sure if that would be a better scenario than reality was, honestly. Shane needed to be in the hospital, he needed help desperately, but Ryan wasn’t sure being involuntarily admitted was the best way for him to accept that help. 

For his part, Scott’s lingering anger was assuaged by Ryan’s words. His commitment to Shane’s well being was doing wonders to dislodge the blame Scott had been trying to assign him to loosen some of his own guilt over the situation. It wasn’t really worth holding onto the anger, if Scott was being honest, it had never helped him in the past and wasn’t helping him now. He just didn’t want to believe that Shane being ill was something that was nobody’s fault because that wasn’t as easy to deal with as having someone to blame. 

However, Ryan was one of the two people Shane trusted most in the world. Scott knew this and he knew that he would be an invaluable part of his brother’s recovery. Any tiny flame of leftover anger was locked away in his chest, out of sight and mind, as he started the car. Ryan shot him a questioning look. 

“Your cat is in my apartment without a litter box or a food bowl set up. Shane’s being taken care of and he would want us to take care of Obi in his absence. I’m sure you got an Uber here, right?” Scott said by way of explanation and Ryan nodded. 

Scott pulled out of the hospital parking lot without looking back at the looming white building, though Ryan’s eyes searched the lights of the hospital’s windows until they were out of sight, wondering which one Shane was in and if he was actually alright in there. 


End file.
